


Drummer Boy

by klancekorner



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in the Bathroom, College AU, Confused Lance, Confused sexuality, Cuban Lance, Emo Keith (Voltron), Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Keith, Keith is a ho, Keith with a lip ring, M/M, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Sexy keith, Slow Burn, bartender Shiro, drummer keith, frat boy lance, friends before lovers, man bun keith, musician keith, pining lance, super pining lance, super slow burn, whore Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klancekorner/pseuds/klancekorner
Summary: Lance is 100%, without a doubt, straight. He has the perfect girlfriend and has never wanted anything more. But suddenly his world is being turned upside down by the boy playing the drums at his local bar--a boy who happens to be very good looking, very gay, and very very interested in Lance.aka: Good-Boy Lance has a crisis when he meets Keith because he's so damn attractive, and Keith is a little ho that is way too promiscuous and open about his sexuality. The become friends. Confusion and sexual tension ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here is my attempt at a klance fic. It was just supposed to be fluff but I went overboard as usual. I know not all the characters are introduced here but I PROMISE by like chapter 3 or 4 all of the characters will be included! Thanks for reading everyone. Also, I write a little bit about homophobia/ homophobic notions, so that is just a warning if that is something that makes you uncomfortable. Enjoy!

The first time Lance sees the drummer, he is pretty damn amazed. 

Well, "pretty damn amazed" is a bit of an understatement. He is floored. It takes his breath away. His whole body thrums with the energetic rhythm spilling from the stage. He feels electricity in his fingertips, in his toes, along the nape of his neck. He has never heard the drums played like that, with such intensity. Even from his seat in the back of the bar, he can see wild, deliberate swings of the drummers arms, before the beats escalate and his arms begin to blur together with the speed of them. Lance is speechless, maybe even (he hated to admit it) a little breathless, and he doesn't realize how absorbed he was in the performance until his girlfriend places her hand on his face and deliberately turns his head towards her. 

"Babe?" She questions, chuckling. "Everything alright? Had a bit too much maybe?" 

Lance falters a little, recovering from what is probably (definitely) shock, and then grins. "Yeah right, you know I handle tequila like a champ, Kate."

 

She rolls her eyes. "Okay lance, I'll remind you of that next time you're barfing after a drinking contest with Hunk". 

 

"The odds are always stacked against me! That man in huge! Unfair advantage!" 

 

Kate giggles in a way that Lance always thought was cute, her nose scrunching up a little and a small blush dusting her cheeks. 

 

"You talking about me?" Lance hears Hunks voice booming from behind them. He turns around on the barstool and comes face to face the the large, looming figure that is his best friend. 

 

"Hunk, my man, you made it!" 

 

A white smile spreads across Hunks dark skin. "Hell yeah, Lance. I'd never miss an opportunity to beat your weak ass in a drinking competition" 

 

"Jeez, it was one time, you people are killing me!" 

 

Hunk laughs out loud. "Dude you were barfing until 6pm the next day"

 

"And you passed out in a 7-11 parking lot" Kate says. 

 

“The guy behind the counter had to lay you down on a pile of dirty dishrags”

 

Kate laughs out loud at that. “I forgot about the freakin’ dishrags!”

 

Before Lance can defend his honor, the sound of the wild drum beats fills the room again and the crowd that has gathered in front of the tiny stage breaks into a deafening cheer, the screaming ringing in lances ears. 

 

He turns a little too eagerly back to the stage, hand gripping the edge of the bar. His eyes lock on the drummer. The boy is finally sitting still for a split second, and curiosity swirls in Lance’s vision. He sees blue and red lights reflecting off of a mop of black hair. He sees fingerless gloves, a red jacket, a black t-shirt. And as the guitar starts playing, he sees the drummer twirl one of the sticks expertly in his hand, one fast, blurry movement, before throwing a smirk across the stage at the guitarist and slamming down the first beat of the song. 

 

So "pretty damn amazed" is probably not the most eloquent way to describe it. But at the moment, it is the only description he can think of. 

 

\-----

 

Lance and Kate had met at a frat party in late August. It was hot and sticky outside, he had vodka pumping through his veins, and she was wearing a yellow sundress that fell somewhere around her knees. His vision was swimming from his previous drinks when she had confronted him. It wasn't really anything too out of the ordinary. They went out for milkshakes that night and then the next week, they were dating. Lance is a flirt, sure, and probably what some may consider a "fuckboy" under certain circumstances, but something about Kate felt secure. After countless rumors that he had slept with various different girls on various separate occasions, he was starting to get a little sick of the sneers and odd stares that came his way. With Kate, the rumors were silenced. People respected him. He felt comfortable. He felt secure. 

 

Lance doesn’t sleep around, despite his wandering eye and his flirtatious nature. Whenever he sees an attractive girl, he feels like he needs to charm her. He may have a little fun, friendly banter, but he never sleeps around. He never breaks hearts. Everyone just thinks he does.

 

It has been about six months since he started dating Kate, and he can't really complain. She is pretty and laughs at his jokes, and her spunky attitude is attractive, always keeping Lance and his ridiculous notions in check. 

 

Of course there are a lot of times when he wants to go out, do something new, maybe go for a drive, get burgers at midnight, or road trip to a new town for the weekend. But she shuts the ideas down without a second thought, and they stay in and watch a romantic comedy, falling asleep at eleven. But hey, relationships are all about sacrifice, right? 

 

\----

 

The shrill beeping of lances alarm clock interrupts his heavy sleep and he is cruelly reminded of the reality that it is the start of midterms week. 

 

He knows that hitting snooze is a bad idea but he can’t bring himself to get up. Slowly, he starts drifting back to sleep...

 

"Lance!" A pillow slams harshly against his face. "You absolute piece of trash, you slept through physics again! Coran is going to kill you" 

 

Fuck fuck fuck. "Shit" Lance mumbles, frantically scrambling out of bed, "Shit shittt" 

 

"Dude, how late were you up last night? 

 

"I don't know, shit" Lance glances at the clock, the large red numbers spelling 11:16. It is almost noon. How did he manage to sleep in so late? He rarely ever used to sleep through classes but over the past month he has managed to sleep through four. He feels his stomach drop to his ankles as he remembers the talk he had with his professor, Coran, just a week ago, saying that he was concerned lance was beginning to slack off. 

 

It's not that he is slacking off, he just doesn't feel things as much as he used to. He's not as passionate about his studies as he used to be. He came into college wanting to start his own business, to change the world, to create the next big thing. But now he just feels like maybe he was foolish for thinking that. He's older, and wiser, and more exhausted. 

 

He is in the rut to end all ruts. 

 

“Lance, you really gotta start setting more than one alarm, this is like…I mean, you’ve been oversleeping a lot.”

 

Hunk sounds concerned, with good reason, but Lance is far too tired to try and have this conversation right now. “I’m fine, really. I just drank too much coffee yesterday. Couldn’t get to sleep.” 

 

Brushing his teeth and throwing some mismatched clothes on, lance and hunk scurry out the door in hopes of making it on time to their next class. 

 

 

 

Lance has always been a good student, much to everyone's surprise. Despite the fact that he goes to a lot of parties and is probably drunk the majority of any given weekend, he knows very well how to manage his time and always works a little too hard. His class clown tendencies were going strong when he first arrived at school, but the four years of college that he has endured seem to have slowly sucked it out of him. At first his professors were a little shocked by his work. They had spent so long silencing his goofy jabs and loud jokes, that when they received his first couple of essays, or exams, they probably weren't expecting eloquent, flowing writing and perfect scores. He quickly became teachers pet in all of his classes, despite his constant acting out and making the whole class laugh. 

 

So midterms typically aren't the worst thing in the world for Lance. He always studied enough in the past and always felt prepared. This week, however, he finds himself staring at the blank questions, fingers shaking around his pen. He studied this. He knows this. Why cant he remember? Why is it so difficult? Why is he drawing a blank?  

 

The rest of the week doesn't get much better. For the first time in a very long time Lance feels unprepared for his exams, and the stress of it surprises him, keeps him up late at night, and winds him up so tight he gnaws at his fingernails and picks at his knuckles. 

 

So naturally, when Hunk and Kate confront him on Friday with an invitation to go out, get absolutely obliterated, and forget about the horrible week. Lance gladly agrees. 

 

He isn't expecting the same band to be on stage when he gets there, and he immediately recognizes the rapid drumming pounding from the stage. Without really thinking, he grabs Hunk and Kate by the wrist and rushes to the front of the bar next to the stage, determined to get a closer look this time.

 

"Lance? What's going on?" Kate laughs a little breathlessly, trailing behind him. 

 

"I just really like this band. The drummer is insane. Didn't you hear him last Friday? It's incredible" 

 

"Oh yeah, that guy is in here every weekend, apparently he's been drumming since he was like ten" hunk says, shrugging. 

 

"Wait what?" Lance turns to Hunk with an eyebrow raised. "How on earth do you know that?" 

 

"The manager of the band graduated last year, he used to be in my business management class. His name is Shiro. Remember him? Tall guy, super buff, dark hair?"

 

Lance does not, in fact, remember him. "You're friends with the manager of this band?" 

 

"I mean, we hung out a bit over the course of the semester. Talked about how he wants to manage his friends band some day because he feels like they've got potential" Hunk obviously doesn’t understand what the big deal is. To be honest, Lance doesn’t either. He really and truly does not know why he cares so much. 

 

The song ends and Lance turns in attention back to the stage, suddenly wanting to get a closer look. From this distance he can see a lot more than before. He sees thick, angled eyebrows. Eyes so dark they could almost be considered black. The thick mop of hair is pulled back today into a small bun, stray hairs poking out at random angles. He doesn't know many people who can pull off a man bun, but he is pretty sure this guy can. He wonders briefly how long it took him to grow his hair like that. Lance doesn't even know if his hair could possibly grow that lon-

 

"I dunno man" 

 

Lances attention is drawn back to reality by Hunks voice. 

 

"What?" Lance asks. 

 

"You asked if I knew his name?" Hunk says slowly, raising an eyebrow in concern. "I said I dunno" 

 

When the hell had Lance asked that? Had he really asked without realizing?

 

"O-oh right. Yeah, I guess I’m just curious. He’s real talented.” 

 

Kate looks at Lance with an expression that is equal parts concern and fondness. "Tequila?" 

 

"Yes please." 

 

\-------

 

Seven shots later, Lance can feel the room around him spinning. He hasn't been this drunk in quite a while. Hunk and Kate have challenged a few of their classmates to a drunk game of darts (super safe and responsible of course) and Lance is struck with the urge to pee. Excusing himself in the most graceful way possible, he stands up on two wobbly legs and walks to the bathroom, tripping over his own two feet a couple times along the way. 

 

When he enters the bathroom, it's silent, the only sound being the muffled music coming from the bar. Lance leans against the sink and lets his ears ring, grateful for the quiet. He looks up into the mirror at his reflection, sweaty and flushed, very clearly drunk. 

 

And that's when he sees it. 

 

In the reflection, right behind him, there are not one but two pairs of feet hidden by the stall door. Before he can process what is going on, a moan slices through the silence in the small bathroom and lance feels himself heat up from his toes all the way to his face. 

 

What the-? 

 

He hears a collection of sounds that are so obviously not made for him to hear-- slurping, sucking, small gasps and dirty moans that leave Lance frozen in place, feet paralyzed. A low, gruff voice makes its way through the stall, mumbling a string of curses that continues to get louder and louder. 

 

_I should leave. I should leave. I need to leave. This isn't right._

 

The moaning gets louder and lances fight or flight instinct is practically screaming at this point, but he can't seem to move from where he is. He sees a delicate pair of knees in tight black jeans, down on the floor. He wonders how hot this mystery girl is, and why this man couldn't wait until leaving the club for her to freaking blow him

 

This girl was probably drunk out of her mind to agree to come in here and do this. What girl would want to kneel on the dirty ass floor of the bar restroom and suck some dudes dick? 

 

Lance is drunk. So so drunk. And he can't understand what is happening until the door swings open and he braces himself to comfort whatever damsel in distress appears from the stall. 

 

But it's not a damsel. 

 

It's a boy. 

 

Lances vision is swimming but he is suddenly sobered by the face before him; because the boy standing in front of him, so close that the lance can see the sweat droplets on his forehead, is the drummer. 

 

His lips look cherry red and raw, with a wetness that travels up to the tip of his nose. A small black lip ring decorates the right corner of his mouth and his skin is so pale it is practically translucent. Up close, Lance can see that his eyes aren't black, but a deep, dark lilac. Lance has never seen eyes like that before. 

 

Lance blinks at him, eyes wide, not knowing what to say. The man in the stall, somehow unaware that there is another person in the bathroom, sees Lance and jumps, nervously standing up and stuffing himself into his open jeans. He looks significantly older than the drummer boy, with dark rough skin that is covered in tattoos and a pair of ripped dirty jeans to match.

 

Lance feel a sensation that he can't name begin to curl in the pit of his stomach. 

 

Without any warning, the drummer boy raises his arm to his red lips and wipes his mouth obscenely with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact with Lance. His face contorts into a filthy smirk, his eyes darken, and then he speaks, voice raspy and low. 

 

"Hope you enjoyed the show" 

 

His tone of voice makes it very clear that he doesn't mean the show on stage. 

 

Then he brushes past Lance and out the door, leaving lance petrified with his heart so far up in his throat that he swears the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.  

 

\------ 

 

Lance isn't homophobic by any means. He won't judge people who like the same sex, people can love who they want. But Lance grew up in a small, catholic, traditional Cuban town where being gay was okay, as long as it was only other people who were. Nobody ever talked about what would happen if someone in the town were to come out. Nobody ever considered it an option, and nobody ever tried to learn more about it. 

 

So Lance isn't homophobic. After all, you can't hate what you don't understand. 

 

He just doesn't really know how to approach the topic...at all. 

 

He is sitting in the schools residential coffee shop with Kate when the face flashes through his head again. Black hair, Lilac eyes, pale skin, a lip ring. It shows up and disappears both within just a second, but it's enough to make his hands curl into fists. 

 

_“Hope you enjoyed the show.”_

 

Who the hell does that guy think he is? Lance most definitely did not enjoy the show, and the mere assumption of this makes his blood boil. What kind of perverted egocentric fuck would say something like that to a complete stranger?  

 

"Lance? Seriously are you alright?" 

 

Kate's voice wakes him out of his inner turmoil and he smiles softly. "I'm so tired. Just a little upset about midterms" 

 

She puts her hand over his, "Lance, it was one bad week out of hundreds of good ones, you're so smart, don't even worry about it" 

 

"I know I know,” he says, "it'll just take a bit for me to get over it.” 

 

He feels a little bad about hiding his strange interaction with the drummer from Kate, but for some reason he thinks that telling her would be a bad idea. He isn't sure why he wants to hide it so bad, like it is a secret, like he has actually done something wrong. 

 

Kate doesn't look phased. "My sorority is having a party tonight because of the money we raised last week" she says, suddenly very happy. "You need to come, it's going to be super fun" 

 

Normally, Lance would never pass up an opportunity to be surrounded by hot girls and alcohol, but for some reason today the idea sounds incredibly unappealing. Maybe it's because he's done it so many times, it doesn't seem like fun anymore. Maybe it's because it would be the fourth sorority party he’s gone to in the last two weeks. He doesn't exactly know the reason. 

 

"That sounds great babe, but can I maybe raincheck tonight? I really want to just have a night in, I promised Hunk a guys night this weekend anyway." 

 

Kate's face falls into a scowl. "But, you know how hard we worked for the fundraiser." 

 

Lance has to physically fight to not roll his eyes. "I know, but I just don't want to go out, I'm sorry, I know you worked hard and I'm proud of you. I really hope you have fun" 

 

Kate scowls even further, and Lance knows he fucked up, but agreeing to go now would just be a bad move. She already knows he doesn't want to. 

 

"Fine, have fun with Hunk then." 

 

The words are cold, and she gets up and leaves. 

 

Lance feels a small pang of guilt, but ultimately does not regret his decision. A guys night in sounds like a really good idea for him. 

 

\----

 

Unfortunately, Lance is a piece of garbage because he doesn't call hunk. He doesn’t even stay in. He finds himself standing at the entrance of the bar before he can even realize he is walking there. 

 

There is a curiosity and sense of urgency that practically propels him forward, past the bouncer, and through the shabby bar door. 

 

It is a bit earlier than he usually visits, and the bar has significantly less people than what he’s used to. The stage stands before him, completely vacant, and there are only a few groups of people chattering around small tables and casually drinking beers. The music is loud, but not as loud as it typically is when Lance comes to get plastered. 

 

Lance sighs, feeling a little defeated, asking himself why on earth he came here in the first place. What exactly it is he is looking for. He decides to get a drink before leaving just to make sure his visit isn't completely wasted. 

 

The bartender is oddly familiar to Lance. He is tall, very muscular, and has a jagged scar lining the bridge of his nose. His shaggy dark hair falls in a perfect mess across his forehead, and when he makes eye contact with Lance he grins, his teeth are a perfect white line. Lance won't even hesitate to admit how attractive this guy was, even as straight as he is. 

 

"Hiya, what can I make for you tonight?" 

 

Lance sits at the bar, sulking a little. "I guess I'll have a vodka cranberry" 

 

The man nods, "coming right up" 

 

Lance glances wearily back at the stage. This is all so stupid. What on earth is he expecting? Why is he so interested in this stupid--

 

"Hey Shiro could you fix up some vodka sodas for me and the guys? They won't stop complaining about how sober they are." 

 

Lances heart stutters as the door behind the bar, presumably to the kitchen, swings open and out comes drummer boy, eyes focusing on the handle of vodka in the bartenders hands. 

 

Shit. 

 

_Should I leave? I should definitely leave. I should leave right now. I should--_

 

"Oh hey, back so soon?" 

 

The boys eyebrow raises in a challenge. Lances eyes lock onto deep purple irises. They stare at each other for a few beats of silence before Lance realizes he has been spoken to. 

 

For a moment, answering seems like an impossible task. Lance feels a very unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach as he studies the boys face. He is startled--he's sever seen a boy who is so... _pretty_. Long dark eyelashes frame his lilac eyes, he has high cheekbones covered with ivory skin that looked smooth to the touch. A delicate, sloping nose lead to the full lips that lance had seen raw and wet in the bathroom. The lip ring he saw last weekend is different today, the silver metal glinting underneath the dim bar lights. 

 

The boy smirks at him, obviously finding pleasure in his nervousness. Before Lance can find any words to say, he is talking again. "Didn't think I'd see your pretty face around here for a while." 

 

"I-uh..." _Pretty face?_

 

Lance tries to think about every smooth thing he has ever said in his life, but nothing is coming to mind. He panics for a brief moment before finally taking a breath and shaking himself out of it. 

 

"And yet here I am, so I guess you were wrong."

 

A small shocked expression passes across the boys face before his smirk returns, this time appearing more like a smile. 

 

"Guess I was. What're you drinking?" 

 

"Vodka cranberry."

 

The boy laughs. It sounds rusty, like he is doing it for the first time and his throat isn't used to the sound. "Vodka cranberry? What are you, a fifteen year old?" 

He places his forearms onto the bar and leans across the counter, "Might as well just order a Shirley temple and save yourself the calories, little girl.”

 

Lances nostrils flare, anger boiling in his blood. Who even is this guy? “Excuse me?This drink is literally fifty percent alcohol! Theres at least two shots in this little cup!”

 

“And do you know what the other fifty percent is?”

 

Lance feels a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Whatever, man.”

 

“Cranberry” the boy says, completely ignoring Lance. “The other half is _cranberry.”_ He is full-on grinning at Lance now. 

 

“Oh shut it, drummer boy.” Lance scowls and takes a large, spiteful gulp of the drink that Shiro has recently placed in front of him.

 

The boy behind the bar stands up slightly, his smile faltering for a split second, but then he leans forward again, confidence glinting in his eyes. “Drummer boy?”

 

"What?" Lance snaps. "Yes, you play the drums. It's a pretty simple concept." 

 

The boy just looks at Lance steadily, but doesn't say anything. Lance shifts uncomfortably as he watches.

 

"Only because I don't know your real name" Lance scoffs, trying to continue the conversation. 

 

"It's Keith"

 

_Keith._

 

"Keith" Lance breathes, almost as if he's been holding in a sigh this whole time. His face heats up when he realizes he said it out loud, and Keith chuckles low in his throat. 

 

"And you are?" 

 

"Uh...Lance?" 

 

"Lance?" Keith smirks, "You sure? You don't sound too sure" 

 

"Yeah I- I'm sure" 

 

"Lance" Keith says softly, eyes traveling slowly from lances eyes, all the way down to his neck. They rest on his lips for barely a moment before snapping up to meet his eyes again. Lances face feels hot under his gaze. 

 

"Well then, nice to formally meet you Lance.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post two chapters in one day because I had it written anyhow. AGAIN, pidge and Allura and Coran will make appearances, just not yet! There is a sexual assault scene in this chapter, so please steer clear if you are triggered in any way by that! Stay safe loves.

Lance walks home with his mind buzzing, and it isn’t from his drink. He feels like he has just done something illegal, like he should be guilty. All he did was go to a bar, have an innocent conversation with a guy behind the bar. What is the big deal?

 

Maybe it is the fact that he lied to Kate about what he would be doing…

 

He takes out his phone, the brightness practically burning a hole through his head. His eyes were still in “dim bar” mode, and the contrast of his screen against the night sky is very rude and unwelcome. 

 

**To: Kate**

 

_Hey, the party still going on?_

 

Lance looks at the message, cringing a little before adding,

 

_Hunk left because he felt sick. i miss you_

 

What else can he do? The guilty feeling won't go away. He guesses that the only way to quell it is maybe to just go to this party. She will be happy to see him there right? 

 

**From: Kate**

 

_Yeah, prtay still hapennning, stopL by!_

 

Lance sighs. She is trashed. I mean, she has every right to be, she is celebrating one of her accomplishments. He is way too sober to even consider entering a mansion full of wasted people. But he feels like he owes that much to Kate. So he starts making his way over to her sorority house. 

 

 

The smell of cheap beer and sweat hits him before anything else. The house is boiling hot, air thick with the heat wafting off of the plethora of people in such a cramped space. Lance has to fight off his gag reflex, the smell of the beer not mixing well with the unsettled vodka in his stomach. 

 

A couple girls come up to him and start talking. They look vaguely familiar. Lance feels like he has probably met them over ten times, but he can’t place them. 

 

One of them starts the conversation. She has firetruck red hair and thick black eyeliner. “Oh, Lance! You came! Kate will be so excited to see you! Is that a new haircut? Your hair looks so soft, can I touch it? Oh my god listen to me I’m so drunk!” 

 

The brunette girl standing next to her rolls her eyes and smiles kindly. “Hi Lance, sorry, she’s had way too much wine.” 

 

Lance chuckles. “I always make time for my fans” he says smoothly, dipping his head down and hearing the red-hair girl shriek as she dug her fingers into his hair.

 

“Wow just as soft as I imagined! April, feel it!”

 

The brunette, who Lance now knows is April, pulls the girl away and looks at Lance, annoyance clear in her expression. “Why are you like this? Why do you encourage her?” Then she smiles. “Kate is in the kitchen. You should go find her” 

 

Lance pads into the kitchen and sees Kate, sitting on the counter telling her friends a loud, shameless story about her first kiss in seventh grade. 

 

Lance takes her in. She is wearing a sky blue dress that makes her skin glow. Her caramel hair is a little frizzy from the heat and her freckles are peeking out through the alcohol induced flush on her cheeks and chest. Her eyes are wide and her pink lips turned upwards in a grin. _She really is pretty_ , Lance thought.

 

But the second the word _pretty_ crosses his mind, he sees a flash of a smirk, purple eyes, and a silver lip ring. 

 

He stands up a little straighter, completely shocked with himself, but doesn't have much time to think about it beach Kate has spotted him and is making her way over now, ready to tackle him into a hug. 

 

He shakes out of his confusion and welcomes Kate with open arms. _This_ , he thought, _is what I want. This right here._

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

The school week is slow and drags on for what feels like a month. Lance locks himself in his room and studies, trying his very best not to get distracted by his friends, or his phone or pretty much anything that usually distracts him. He is concerned about his grades dropping because of how god damn _distracted_ he gets. He sets five alarms every morning and manages to make it to all of his classes on time. It is a good week, really. No setbacks, no bumps in the road, no major disasters. 

 

And if his dreams are littered with ivory skin and fingerless gloves, it really isn’t that big of a deal. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

“What do you wanna do tonight?”

 

Lance and Hunk are sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Kate is standing over them, her arms crossed in amusement. 

 

Lance sighs. “This week was killer. Lets do something fun.”

 

Hunk shoots upward. “Mini Golf!” 

 

Kate and Lance glance at each other. “Uh… no, Hunk.” Kate says. 

 

Hunk pouts. “Why doesn’t anyone ever wanna go mini golfing with me?”

 

“Some day, big guy. Not tonight though.” 

 

“So then what do _you_ wanna do?”

 

Kate, thankfully, interjects. “There is a new sandwich place next to the bar that is apparently really delicious. We can stop there for dinner and then maybe head to the bar? Just to unwind from the rough week?”

 

“Sounds great!” Lance says, all too quickly. “I’m always down to try new food.” He adds, making the other two look a little less surprised. 

 

“Alright then, let me just change. I’ll meet you guys outside.” Kate says, walking out of the room and waving behind her. 

 

 

 

The sandwiches are pretty fucking delicious. Hunk was literally “transported to another dimension” and Lance finishes his grilled cheese in a record 2 minutes. He doesn’t even leave enough time to breathe between bites. He is definitely impressed by the food. Kate looks at them both a little warily, picking at her eggplant parmesan. 

 

“This food is way too greasy…” She says, “There’s too much cheese in this.”

 

“Too much cheese?” Hunk recoils as if he has been injured. “Are you for real? Who even are you?” 

 

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m going to the bathroom.” 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Lance breathes in the stale, hot air of the bar. It is familiar to him, it kind of feels like a second home, which is super sad but whatever.

 

Because they went out for food, they missed the live music. Lance looks (a little too longingly) and the empty stage, his disappointment like a heavy weight at the bottom of his stomach. 

 

They sit around a circle table in the middle of the bar, which is different from what they usually do. All of the seats at the bar are taken though. Lance looks down at the dark wood of the table and sees a menu. 

 

“Hey, lets order dessert!” 

 

“How are you still hungry?” Kate asks, bewildered. 

 

“You don’t need to be hungry for dessert, babe. Lets see what they have.”

 

They decide on sharing the chocolate lava cake and strawberry shortcake. Lance sees Kate wave over what he assumes to be the server. 

 

“Hi, what can I get for you tonight?”

 

Lance freezes. That voice. He knows that voice.

 

He slowly turns his gaze upwards but Keith is already looking down at him, expression unreadable. He is wearing a black tank top that is way too tight, and a black apron is tied around his waist. Lance feels that unfamiliar fluttering again, glancing at the pale skin and toned muscle that make up Keith’s arms. _Jesus, can drumming alone get someones arms to look like that? Maybe I should take up drumming._

 

Keith isn’t smiling but his eyes are glinting, almost as if he is laughing at Lance. That is when Lance realizes he is probably staring. Kate has already started ordering, unaware of Lance’s trance. She throws a bunch of modifications at Keith because “lava cake is always done wrong” and she wants to make sure it is “just right this time”. 

 

Keith turns his gaze away from Lance and smiles a little too kindly at Kate. His lips are bare today, and the absence of the lip ring makes Lance almost miss it. 

 

“Unfortunately,” Keith starts saying, with a little bit of bite to his words, “I can’t control how much talent our shitty chef has. But I’ll give him these notes so you think I tried.” 

 

A surprised bubble of laughter bursts out of Lances mouth. Keith shoots him a smirk. Kate looks absolutely insulted. Then Hunk is laughing too, and Keith starts scribbling onto his notepad, a proud blush warming his cheeks. 

 

Then Hunk gasps. “Wait, you are the amazing drummer kid! Dude your skills are incredible! Holy Shit!” 

 

Keith looks a little shocked at that, his confident expression faltering. “Oh, uh, yeah that’s me?” 

 

Lance smiles a little to himself. “Can’t take a compliment, can you Keith?” 

 

Keith looks up at Lance and scowls. Hunk is looking between the two of them like he just discovered buried treasure. “You two know each other?” 

 

Lance scoffs. “Hardly. We had one conversation and he made fun of my drink the whole time.” Keith chuckles at that. “I didn’t know you were a waiter here.” 

 

Keith shrugs, placing his hand on his hip. “It always helps to make some spending money. Shiro and I pretty much just help out here whenever we can.” 

 

Hunk’s face lights up. “Shiro is the guy I was telling you about, Lance!”

 

Before Lance can ask Keith anything else, like how long he’s played the drums, or why he loves music or what he uses his extra pocket money for or why he was so comfortable sucking a guys dick in public—

 

_Jesus. Why do I care? Why do I want to know?_

 

Keith is already turning away from them. “I’m going to put this order in before the kitchen closes.” 

 

And then he’s gone. Lance watches him walk away. His silhouette is almost unfair, broad shoulders narrowing into a tiny waist. Lance scoffs, and crosses his arms.

 

“That guy is weird.” Kate says, voice a little bitter. “He should just stick to drumming. He’s way to rude to be a server.” 

 

Hunk shrugs. “I think he’s super cool.” 

 

Lance laughs humorlessly. “Cool? Just because he wears gloves that are probably from hot topic, doesn’t mean he’s cool. Also, he has a mullet. Come on, Hunk.” 

 

Hunk smirks at Kate. “Lance totally thinks he’s cool.” 

 

“I do not!”

 

“You so do”

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Keith returns with the dessert about fifteen minutes later, looking a little frazzled. His lips are red, his eyes dark. He leans over Lance to put the cake on the table and lance catches a glimpse of a large, red and purple bruise on the base of Keith’s neck. It is still shiny. _A hickey?_ The emotion that boils at the pit of Lance’s stomach is a little concerning to him. He calls it anger, but that doesn’t seem right. 

 

“Here’s your cake, cooked marvelously by our finest chefs” he deadpans. Hunk laughs.

 

Kate scowls. She doesn’t say anything. She just glares down at the cake. 

 

Keith does a very sarcastic bow, his head lowering. “Hope you enjoy, my good people.” His voice is emotionless. He stands up straight again, looking at Lance. Lance tries really hard to look away but he can’t, and thank god Hunk starts talking or else the situation could have gotten super awkward. 

 

“So you guys have met, then. Wanna introduce us to your friend, Lance?”

 

Kate looks very unimpressed. Lance stutters. “Oh-uh, I mean he's not necessarily my _friend_ —“ 

 

Keith smirks.

 

“But _anyway,_ this is Hunk.” He gestures towards Hunk and then pats his shoulder. “He’s my best friend in the world and I think we’re gonna grow old together.” He says, matter-of-factly. 

 

Keith’s face softens a little.

 

“And this is Kate, she’s my girlfriend.” 

 

Keith’s face contorts rather quickly into one of utter shock, and Lance shoots him a look of confusion. He composes himself though, jaw snapping shut. “Hi,” he says to Kate, “Nice to meet you.” His voice was cool and collected, but Lance could still see confusion in his eyes. 

 

_“_ It’s getting late,” Kate says, a little cooly. She doesn’t acknowledge Keith. “Lets just eat and get out of here.I’m so sleepy.” 

 

This irritates Lance a little. Well, a lot. He understands that Keith was teasing her, but she was completely out of line. 

 

“You know what? I’m going got stay a bit longer.” He says, a irritation clear in his voice. He turns to Keith. “Are there any good bands playing tonight?” 

 

Keith is a little unprepared to be addressed. “Uh, my friend pidge usually comes in around eleven thirty to play guitar. She’s really good.” 

 

“I wanna see Pidge.” Lance decides. Hunk is looking at him a little nervously, but then he turns to Kate and performs damage control as he always does (because he is such a heckin’ good friend).

 

“Me and Kate will just take an Uber back, you can stay. We’ll see you tomorrow?” 

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

Keith is already walking away and the group eats their food quickly. Hunk mostly talks about how good the strawberries are the whole time. 

 

 

 

 

 

When Hunk and Kate leave, Lance decides all on his own that he wants a shot of tequila. He stops by the bathroom before heading to the bar. 

 

Lance has just pulled up his pants, ready to leave the stall, when he hears the door of the bathroom slam open.

 

“Come on Pretty Boy, you know you want it. Quit fighting me.” 

 

The voice is low and nasty. Lance sees two large, muddy combat boots from the opening at the bottom of the stall. 

 

He hears someone growl, “Leave me alone.”

 

_Keith._

 

“God you're so pretty. Look at that mouth of yours. Wonder how it would look choking on my dick-“

 

“I said leave me _alone!”_ Keith's voice is raspy and broken. Lance hears a significant amount of shoving and slamming before he hears a large thump, and a strangled groan of pain that sounds a lot like Keith.

 

He hears coughing, like Keith is trying to breathe. He hears a fly unzip. He feels nauseous. He is petrified. 

 

The low, gruff voice is quieter this time, but Lance can still hear him. “Look at that fucking pretty little face of yours.” He is breathing heavily and Lance feels the urge to barf. “You like it when I choke you, don’t you? I bet you-“

 

Lance can't take it anymore. He bursts out of the stall door and lays eyes on the very gross (for lack of a better description) man who has one of his large, grimy hands clenched around Keith’s neck, raising him off the ground. Keith's pants are unzipped and the man’s other hand is hidden underneath the waistband of his boxers. Lance feels the anger bubbling in his stomach, his chest, straight up to his eyes. He is seeing red. 

 

“What. The. FUCK!” Lance screams, and he is charging towards the man before he can even consider any other options. The man lets go of Keith and he falls to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. Lance pounces onto the man’s back and starts bashing his face with his fists. The man screams and grabs at him, punching his jaw, scraping his back, but Lance keeps jabbing at him until the man finally throws Lance off of his back and storms out of the restroom, grumbling curse words under his breath. 

 

Lance is still reeling as he turns to face Keith, who is sitting against the wall, wide eyed, panting. There are red, rough fingerprint bruises dotting his neck and his jeans remain unzipped. Lance’s vision is spinning. He practically growls, “Aren’t you going to turn that guy in? Let me call the fucking police!” 

 

Keith’s shocked expression turns stormy, and he scowls. “What the hell are you doing here? I had it under control.” 

 

“…What?”

 

“I didn’t need your help,” Keith spits. “I had it under control.”

 

“Are you serious?” Lance bares his teeth, fuming. “I just saved your sorry ass, Keith! Don’t you dare try and be a dick to me!” 

 

“I didn’t need you to save me! I’m not a damsel in distress!”

 

“Well clearly you did because you were about to fucking pass out if he kept-“

 

“It wasn’t his fault!”

 

The bathroom goes dangerously silent. The last statement ringing like sirens in Lance’s ears. 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

Keith sighs twice. First with frustration, then with defeat. 

 

“I mean, he’s definitely a dick. Like, a really fucked up guy. But… he tips really well, Lance. And when I noticed that, I just kept flirting with him more and more.” His voice is still raw from having the hand around his neck. “He got really interested in me then, and he is friends with a record producer. He said he could get my band discovered. So I just kept telling him all these dirty things. Promising him all of the things he wanted from me. He finally came after me. I should have seen it coming at some point.”

 

Lance stands dangerously still. This is the most he has ever heard Keith speak. 

 

Keith shrugs then, as if nothing has happened. As if he wasn’t just assaulted by a horrendous man. As if everything is fine and they are just two old friends chatting in the bathroom. 

 

Then he says, “I tend to use my body to get what I want. So this isn’t the first time this has happened. I get myself into this shit all the time.” 

 

Lance remembers the hickey on Keith’s neck at dinner.

 

Then Keith smirks. “Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the sex is fucking fantastic,” he says, voice deep. “But other times, shit like this happens.”

 

Who the fuck even _is_ this boy?

 

Lance has finally calmed his breathing down. Then he says, “Dude, just because you flirtwith someone, doesn’t give them the right to choke you and have it be okay. Do you even hear yourself?” 

 

Keith nods, “I know, I know.”

 

They stand in silence for what feels like an hour before Keith says, ever so quietly, “Thank you.”

 

Lance smiles, but instead of saying “you’re welcome” like a normal person, he says, “I thought the way you shut down Kate at dinner was fucking hilarious.” 

 

It feels mean. It _is_ mean. Lance feels a small bubble of guilt forming in his chest.

 

But then a surprised laugh spills out of Keith’s mouth; a strange, melodic sound and a grin splitting his face in a way that Lance has never seen before. His eyes shine, his delicate nose scrunching and his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Lance somehow forgets all about that bubble of guilt, because there is a bubble of something terrifying taking it’s place. 

 

Lance wants to hear that laugh so, _so much_ more. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

He ends up helping Keith off the floor. Keith looks shy, turning away from Lance and zipping himself up again. When he turns back to Lance, he has an embarrassed flush in his cheeks. It is so weird to see him like this. Lance is aware that he had really only known Keith for like a week, but in every interaction they have had, Keith was the picture of confidence. Now, he looks small, and Lance feels unsteady, like he is invading his personal space. 

 

Keith looks just about ready to face the world again, and glances at Lance like he is about to say goodbye. But Lance stops him, suddenly panicking. He doesn’t want the night to be over. He doesn't want the night to end like this. 

 

So before Keith can say anything, Lance blurts, “Wanna smoke?”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Smoke? Smoke what?”

 

“I don’t know. Weed?” Lance digs into his jacket pocket. “I’ve got a bit here.” He feels so uncool. So incredibly uncool. His hands are fumbling over the rolled up paper and the small plastic bag. He is such a smooth person. Why does this kid make him so fucking nervous? 

 

“Lance.” Keith touches his fingers onto Lance’s forearm, a little gentler than Lance expected any touch from Keith to be. “Want me to do it?” 

 

Lance feels a flush creeping onto his neck. “Yeah….Yeah thanks.”

 

Keith takes the blunt and starts walking out of the bathroom, gesturing for Lance to follow him. 

 

They end up behind the bar, sitting cross legged on the ground and leaning back against the cool brick of the building. Keith is sitting so close that their knees are toughing. Lance doesn’t care, except a small, very tiny part of him _totally does._

 

He looks over at Keith, who just took a drag from the blunt, his head tilting back against the brick as he breathes out. Smoke surrounds them. Lance gazes wearily at the boys profile, wondering how on earth a boy can have such delicate features. Keith’s eyes are closed and Lance takes that as an opportunity to steal a glance. How are Keith’s eyelashes so long? The fall against his cheekbones so gently. Lance’s fingers itch to just reach out and—

 

“Here ya go” Keith is passing the blunt over to Lance, eyes still closed. Lance feels like his brain is moving at a million miles per minute. There is something very dangerous about the way his heart is twisting in his chest. 

 

He knows Keith is gay, or at least bi. He’d seen it with his own eyes. But he _himself_ is not. He just isn’t. He never has been. He’s never been attracted to guys. He’s never even met anyone who is attracted to guys. He has no idea how any of that works, or how it feels, or what is even so different about it. It is taboo where he is from. Nobody talks about it. So there is no way Lance can actually be attracted to a boy, right? 

 

He takes a long drag, eyes fluttering shut. He wonders why the spot where Keith’s knee is touching his feels like it’s on fire. 

 

As the lightheaded feeling of the smoke takes over him, he calms down. _It’s probably just stress. I haven’t gotten to rest in a while. It’s playing games with my head._

 

They sit in silence for a couple minutes. Keith is the first to speak. He clears his throat.

 

“So, you're girlfriend…” he starts, “how did you two, uh, meet?”

 

Lance blows out another puff of smoke. His girlfriend. Right. 

 

“We met at a frat party, I was drunk.” He isn’t really selling this relationship well. “I mean, not super drunk. I don’t know, I thought she was really cute. We went out for milkshakes. It was a good time.” 

 

Keith nods slowly, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

As the smoke curls around Lance’s face, he finds himself continuing to ramble. He usually gets talkative when he is high, unlike everyone else in the world. “I know she seemed like a bit of a bitch when you met her before, but she’s actually pretty sweet. I mean, she is a little boring, but sweet. Sometimes I wanna do more though, you know? There are only so many movies with Ben Stiller in them that I can watch before I lose it.” 

 

Keith giggles, he _fucking giggles,_ and lance nearly chokes on the smoke in his throat. 

 

They sit for a few more minutes in comfortable silence. Lance wonders how he can be so comfortable with someone he barely knows. It makes his face feel hot. 

 

“Do you believe in aliens?” 

 

Lance turns toward Keith cautiously, as if he doesn't believe the words actually came out of the boys mouth.

 

“Do I…what now?”

 

“Aliens!” Keith says, a small smile forming on his face. “Do you think they exist? Like UFO’s, or like, giant spaceships, or you know, space malls?” 

 

“Are you…are you being serious?”

 

“Come on, man! They could really be out there, this is serious stuff! I was watching this one documentary—“

 

“No you weren’t. You watch _alien conspiracy theory documentaries?”_

 

Keith is grinning now, Still facing forward, not making eye contact with Lance. Lance looks down at him, bewildered. 

 

“Shut up, man. It’s really interesting stuff. The world is so fucking huge, there’s gotta be something else out there.” 

 

The excitement in Keith’s voice is enough to make Lance smile even if he thought it is total bogus. There is a smoky haze surrounding their heads and Keith is still smiling softly, eyes glued to the back sky. 

 

Lance turns to face the sky as well. A few beats of silence pass. “Did your lip piercing hurt?” 

 

Keith chuckles low in his throat. “Why? You want one?” He can practically hear the smirk in Keith’s voice. “It wouldn’t suit you.” 

 

“Why? I’m plenty dangerous!” 

 

“You think your girlfriend would approve?”

 

“I mean…I don’t see why not?” 

 

Keith grunts in reply. 

 

“I mean, I dont know” Lance continues, “I’m just thinking I might want one.”

 

“Why?” Keith teases with a low voice,“You think they're sexy?”

 

“God yes.” The words tumble out of Lance’s mouth without any warning. He jerks his head downwards, suddenly very interested in his sneakers. His face feels like it’s on fire. Stupid weed. Stupid high, making him say regretful things that don’t make any sense. 

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

Lance lets his head fall to the side, finally deciding to hide his shame and look at Keith. Keith is smirking at him, his pretty lips quirked to the side, eyebrow raised. Their faces are a little too close. Lance clears his throat and looks away a little too quickly. “You’re not wearing it today.” He says, softly.

 

Keith hums. “I dropped it in my bathroom sink. It went down the drain. Gotta buy a new one.”

 

Lance snorts. “Not so badass after all.”

 

Keith shrugs, “Still pretty badass. I have a hole in my fucking lip, so.”

 

And maybe it is the weed, but Lance thinks that is fucking hysterical. He bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he tries to regain his composure. Keith is looking at him like he is insane, but there is a pinkness in his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

 

As the laughter quiets down, they both looked at each other. The blunt is long gone. Lance feels a pleasant dizziness in his head and a buzz that he wishes he could keep for a long, long time. He studies Keith’s face. So pale, so soft looking. He sees the purple bruises lining Keith’s neck, in such stark contrast with the ivory skin surrounding them. Lance feels a wave of emotions crashing over him and suddenly doesn’t really know what to do with himself. 

 

_It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal. Snap out of it._

 

“I should get going…” Lance says slowly. “I can walk home from here.” 

 

Keith nods and stands up first, dusting himself off before he reaches his hand out to Lance, who is still on the floor and doesn’t want to move. 

 

Lance looks at the extended hand for what is probably way too long to be considered normal, then he takes it. Keith pulls him up quickly without any struggle, and Lance falters a little at the unexpected strength. His hand feels cold when Keith lets go. 

 

Keith is looking at him with a cockiness shining in his eyes that Lance recognizes from their first conversation at the bar. Then his expression softens. “Hey, thanks for, you know, stopping that guy. I was a dick about it but…I didn’t mean to be.”

 

Lance’s insides are tuning to absolute mush at the words but he just shrugs as if he is the coolest fucking person in the world. “Thanks for smoking with me.” 

 

Keith smiles lazily at him and Lance feels dizzy. Part of him know it isn’t from the buzz, but he stows that part away as he waves goodbye to Keith and starts walking home. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

It is around 2AM when Lance gets to his apartment. He remembers telling Kate that she could stay the night, so he isn’t surprised when he sees her on the couch watching a reality TV show when he arrives. He is still high, and all of a sudden starving, so he goes straight to the kitchen and opens a bag of tortilla chips. They taste so damn delicious. Who knew tortilla chips were this good? Who the fuck invented these things?

 

He feels two arms snake around his waist from behind him. 

 

“Im sorry” He hears her say quietly. “I was a bit of a bitch tonight. I don’t really know why.” 

 

Lance feels that small bubble of guilt reemerge in his chest. He turns around so they are facing each other, but his mouth is so full of tortilla chips that he can’t reply. 

 

“I was just-“ She starts to continue, but then stops, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Lance, you smell like shit.” Then, eyeing the bag of chips, realization dawned on her. “Jesus, are you high? You walked all the way home high as fuck?”

 

Lance chuckles for what seems like a couple of seconds, but by the look on Kate’s face, is probably more like an entire minute. Then he swallows the chips and clears his throat. “I had some left over in my pocket from last weekend.” 

 

“You smoked weed at a bar by yourself? Isn’t that depressing?” 

 

Lance shrugs. “Keith was with me.”

 

“The rude waiter?” 

 

Lance nods. “That’s the one.” 

 

He sees a flash of Keith’s panicked expression as the man’s dirty hands touched him. He sees the bruises, hears the coughing, feels the thud as Keith hit the floor.

 

He eats a chip, listening to the crunch as if it is a million cosmic explosions occurring right on his tongue. 

 

“Oh my god, you are so high.” Kate is smiling now, amused. 

 

They end up falling asleep on the couch watching TV, which is something Lance used to enjoy immensely when they first got together. But it is so regular now, and the flower scent of Kate’s hair is a little overpowering. 

 

Lace’s last thought before he falls asleep is Keith’s profile— sloping lines of his nose and sharp planes of his face all soft with the moonlight. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Pidge and Allura are going to be introduced, I promise! I also snuck some Spanish Lance into these chapters, and you'll probably start to see a lot more Spanish in the later chapters. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! I know I enjoyed writing it because I'm Voltron Trash!

After that night, Lance tries to find any and every excuse to go to the bar. It’s worrisome, really, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He goes out for walks in the middle of the week and somehow ends up there, a little surprised with himself. He goes in and sits at the bar, sometimes chatting with Shiro, sometimes even doing his homework.

He feels like he is losing his mind. Every time he walks in he glances around for Keith, but he is mostly never there. If he is there, he is practicing in the back room with his band, and Lance isn’t sure if he is ready to face drummer Keith yet. 

He feels like he is sneaking around behind his friend’s backs. He’s an adult and he can go wherever he pleases, but it all feels like he shouldn’t be doing it. Like he should be guilty for something.

But talking with Shiro has been an experience all in itself, because it turns out Shiro knows Keith pretty damn well. And if Shiro is weirded out by Lance’s obsession with finding out more about Keith, he doesn’t show it. Lance is thankful for that. It makes him feel less like he is insane. 

He learns that Keith started playing drums when he was ten, because he had a horrible temper and needed an outlet so he would stop biting people in class. Shiro practically raised Keith, as his older brother. He learned that Keith’s favorite food is Cheetos and he had a horrible emo phase where he wore black eyeliner almost every day. Shiro was laughing so hard at that, saying the Keith used to steal their mom’s eyeliner from her dresser and Shiro had to cover for him so many times. 

He learns that Keith had always been temperamental, and his first boyfriend was twice his size and covered in tattoos, with piercings all over his face. Keith was only in ninth grade. But according to Shiro, ever since an early age he was always able to make anyone crazy for him. “It’s just something about how he talks to people,” Shiro said, “He’s always been like that. Just super flirtatious.” Keith broke up with him over something really stupid, like the toppings he liked on his burrito. 

“He has very strong beliefs”, Shiro had said, chuckling, “he gets really frustrated when people disagree with him.” 

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Lance learns so much about Keith, and a certain fondness grows inside of him that he wasn’t expecting. Even though half the things he learns are about how fucked up he is, Lance can’t help but be more and more curious. Keith is just such a mystery to him. He is so confident, so open about his sexuality, so promiscuous, and yet he watches alien documentaries. And he had an emo phase. Lance is so pleasantly surprised every time he learns something new. 

When he gets back to his apartment, Kate is usually there waiting for him. They talk about the normal stuff; work, Hunk’s crush of his friend Shay, exams, their families. They sit on the couch, make out, eat popcorn, make out again. Lance realizes that for how long they have been dating, he really doesn’t know as much about Kate as he should. But he doesn’t know how to go about having those conversations with her. It is almost like there is something _uncomfortable_ about having that level of conversation with her. 

So Lance keeps bringing his laptop to the bar, even while the sun is still in the sky and the bar is practically empty. Shiro looks up every time like he expects him, smirking a little underneath his kind smile. 

______________________________________________________________________

Lance is sitting at a round table in the middle of the bar on Friday night. He tells Kate and Hunk that he has a fraternity meeting and that he is going out with his friends after. But truthfully, he just wants some alone time after a rough week. He sees a look of understanding on Hunk’s face, because Hunk can read him better than anyone and probably knows Lance isn’t completely telling the truth. Kate just shrugs a little, looking annoyed.

He orders some wings for himself and they are sitting in front of him, virtually untouched. His laptop is open and he is writing a paper, strangely focused despite the loud bar noises around him. He finds, quite surprisingly, that the noises are comforting. They distract him from his own anxious thoughts. He likes working there. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” A familiar voice asks. 

Lance glances forward and sees Keith sliding into the seat across from him. He is holding a drink in one hand and a sandwich in the other, drumsticks tucked into his waistband. Keith smirks at him and then takes a big bite of his food. With muffled speech, he says, “Are you fucking studying right now?” 

Lance is still a little dazed by Keith’s opening remark. He tries and fails to very subtly trail his eyes down Keith’s body. 

Keith is wearing a burgundy, v-neck t-shirtthat is a little baggy on him, slipping down on his shoulder and revealing a part of his collarbone. His pants are black and covered with pockets, tucked into a pair of dark red combat boots. The drumsticks in his waistband are covered in worn down stickers and sharpie doodles. Lance briefly wonders what the stories are behind them. His eye move back up to Keith’s face. He has his hair half pulled back, loose strands poking out and framing his face. Some longer hair has fallen out of the bottom, curling onto the nape of his neck. Keith is smirking intensely, like he knows Lance is checking him out. 

_Dios_ , he looks good. How does he look so good? Lance huffs in frustration, finally realizing that Keith has asked him a question. 

“Yes I’m doing homework” he snaps. “This paper is due tomorrow at midnight. I’ve been procrastinating like crazy.” 

“It’a a Friday night. You're literally at a bar.” 

“I just didn’t wanna be at home. It’s too quiet.”

“Too quiet? For homework?”

“Yes, Keith. Too quiet for homework.” 

Keith hums in response. “Interesting.” He stands up. 

“Where are you going?” Lance says, sounding a little too concerned. 

“I’m playing tonight, man.” He said, smiling. “It’s Friday.” 

“Oh, right.”

Keith is looking down at him, lost in thought. Then he says, “I’m going to buy a new lip ring after my gig if you wanna come with, ya know, to see what it’s all about.” 

Lance smiles, “Sure.”

Keith grins, “Sweet.” 

He waves goodbye to the Lance and walks toward the stage.

Lance softly shuts his laptop and leans back in his chair. He hasn’t seen Keith perform for a while, and his heart is beating a little faster than usual now that he’s met him. 

The lights dim and the crowd on the dance floor starts to lose it. Lance tightens his grip on the table as the band appears, the stage lights making Keith’s hair look like a smear of black ink.

The drumming starts before he can prepare himself, and he feels the vibrations through his entire body. How? How do Keith’s arms move so fast? How much does he practice? He can see a determined smirk plastered across Keith’s face as his legs bounce to the rhythm. He sighs, feeling a little too many things, and covers his face with his hands for a brief moment. 

Keith is in his element and it is so incredibly obvious. Lance feels his whole body heating up as he watches Keith’s changes in expression, the symbols crashing, his shoulders moving with the beat. His face occasionally twists into intense concentration, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as his arms speed up. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his face breaks out into a pure, genuine grin, and Lance feels like he has been blinded. 

This fluttery feeling in his stomach isn’t going away. He blinks hard and tries to think about Kate; about how nice it is to kiss her, how nice she smells, her soft and freckled skin. He thinks about all of the things that turn him on about her; her tight waist and the way she bites his lip when they kiss, how she feels pressed up against him late at night. He is digging through all of his memories, trying to find something to hold onto to make him feel like he has some semblance of control over what he was thinking, or what he was feeling. 

He opens his eyes, feeling a little better, but Keith is looking directly at him now, holding the drumsticks in his hand. He holds them up a little triumphantly, chest heaving, and sends Lance a goofy grin. 

_Fuck._ Lance thinks. _Fuck Fuck Fuck._

______________________________________________________________________

“So, do you want me to drive?” Lance asks. “We can stop by my place and get my car.” 

Keith shakes his head. “The place I usually go to is walking distance from here. We should be okay.” 

They walk side by side. Lance is a little too aware of how close together they are, the backs of their hands occasionally brushing slightly sending shivers down Lances spine.

“So how long have you had your piercing anyway?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know. Five, six years? I got it in my sophomore year of high school.” 

“That’s a while.” Lance says dumbly.

“Yeah, it is” Keith laughs. “This is like the fourth time I've lost one in the sink though. So, that’s fun” 

It is silent for a bit, then Keith speaks again. His voice is teasing. “So, I hear you've been asking Shiro all about me.” The smirk on his face can probably be seen from miles away. 

“W-What?” Lance sputters, eyes getting comically wide. “No I don’t! We just talk! He’s the one that usually brings you up! Don’t flatter yourself, drummer boy!”

“Mhmm, that’s not what I heard.” Keith’s voice is low. Melodic. Smooth.

“Well you heard wrong!” Lance says defensively, huffing and crossing his arms. His face is betraying him though, an intense flush coloring his cheeks that probably gave everything away. 

Keith reaches his hand out and grabs Lance’s forearm, forcing Lance to stop walking and face him. There is less than a foot of space between them. Lance feels like there is literal steam coming off of his face. He holds his breath and looks down at Keith’s dark eyes. 

Keith hums a deep laugh, barely audible. “You’re cute when you're angry.”

Lance just stares at him, blinking. “I-uh..” He falters. “I- wha-“

“Don’t hurt yourself. Also, we’re here.” He says, pointing upwards. Lance looks up wordlessly at the neon sign of the store and then back down at Keith, who has his eyebrow raised and the biggest shit- eating grin on his face as he turns and walks into the store. 

______________________________________________________________________

They spend about twenty minutes browsing the piercing options in the store. Keith knows exactly what he wants and doesn't take any of Lance’s suggestions _(“I’m not wearing a neon pink lip ring Lance, I dont care how pretty it is.”)_ He ends up buying a simple, thin black ring with a small red stripe down the middle. 

After buying it, He puts it on and turns to Lance. “How do I look?” 

_Dios,_ it has been a while since Lance has seen Keith’s face with the lip ring and he is a little shocked at the way his brain is screaming, _TELL HIM HE’S BEAUTIFUL, KISS HIS GODDAMN FACE, DIOS MIO QUIERO HACER—_

“It looks good.” He says instead, surprised by how he is keeping his cool when the insides of his brain are crumbling at an alarming pace and he feels like all of his appendages are turning to mush. Without thinking he reaches his hand towards Keith’s face and holds his chin up slightly, itching to touch the skin there, running the pad of his thumb over the new ring. Keith’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything. Then Lance quickly drops his hand, realizing what he has done.

He clears his throat. “Shall we, uh- go now?”   


“Yeah, they're about to close anyway.” 

They begin to walk in the direction of the bar, and Lance tries to calm down his loud, anxious thoughts. 

_It’s not cheating if he’s a guy, right? We’re just two bros, doing bros things, I don’t even need to hide any of this from Kate. Why am I hiding this from her? I can tell her everything! Because there isn’t anything going on here. Because Keith is a fucking BOY for crying out loud and I don’t like boys I’m not gay—_

“You good?” Keith asks, kind of jokingly but there is concern in his tone. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just thinking about that paper I was writing. I’m so behind.”

_Fucking lame-ass excuse._

“Eh, it’s just school. You’ll get there.” 

Before Lance can ask Keith about what he is studying, Keith changes the subject. “So what does Shiro say about me? Ya know, behind my back and all?” His shit-eating grin is back and Lance wants to punch a wall. 

Lance doesn’t even bother trying to deny it anymore. “I don’t know. He said you started playing the drums because you has serious anger issues-“

Keith snorts.

“-and that you really like Cheetos-” 

“Fucking delicious snack-“

“-and that you are a major flirt.”

Keith smirks, “Also not false.” 

Lance looks down at his feet. “And you used to wear your moms eyeliner.”

Keith stops in his tracks, swiveling around to look at Lance. “What?!” His face is turning a delightful shade of pink. “He told you about that?! God, I’m gonna kill him!” 

Lance chuckles, amused. “Chill, drummer boy, it’s not a big deal. I thought it was adorable.” 

They both look at each other in silence for what feels like an hour, the word “adorable” still heavy on Lance’s tongue. 

_There isn’t anything going on here. There isn’t anything going on here. There isn’t anything going on here._

 

 They walk the rest of the way bickering, as Lance asks about Keith’s tatted-up ex boyfriend and Keith giggles, hiding his face in an embarrassed way that makes Lance’s stomach turn to liquid. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PIDGE IS HERE! Yay. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Just wanna say a HUGE thank you because the response to this has been more than I realized it would be! Thanks for reading everyone and I'm so glad you like it!
> 
> ALSO a very talented cutie made some really nice fan art for my fic! Check it out on her tumblr below!
> 
> http://zibilivedro.tumblr.com/post/159341567430/everyone-go-read-dimplesandcurlsss-s-fic-its

Lance decides a couple days later that he is going to try and reclaim his sanity by going on a much needed date with Kate. He makes a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in their small college town, and he even puts on a dashing-as-hell light blue button down shirt. Kate comes over and she looks so pretty as she always does, and Lance starts to feel like maybe these crazy thoughts he is having are only temporary. Maybe he just needs this again. 

He takes her hand and it feels small and frail in his. It’s endearing, but also makes his long fingers curl uncomfortably in on themselves. There is an unsettling feeling in his stomach, like he would rather be home, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. Kate looks up at him, smiling, and they make their way to dinner.  


“We haven’t don this in a really long time.” She says, happily. 

“Yeah, it’ll be really nice.” Lance sounds surprisingly earnest.

The restaurant is fancy in every single definition of the word; wine glasses, white tablecloths, dim lights, and crystal chandeliers. Lance briefly wonders how Keith would look in here, with his baggy shirts and mussed up hair and lip ring. He smiles a little at the thought of it.

_Stop. Stop thinking about him. Christ on a stick._

Kate is looking at the menu quite judgmentally, a little unimpressed. Food is something she is always picky about. Lance is more like a human vacuum cleaner, so he doesn’t really relate. 

After they order their food, Kate starts telling Lance about her week. Most of it has to do with her sorority; how much money they raised, who is pissed at who, who is sleeping with who. Lance zones out for a bit and then immediately feels guilty, zoning back in and trying his hardest to listen. 

“So that’s when Margaret and Ashley came in, which was super awkward because of the whole Brandon thing.” She finishes, as if that is a logical way to end the story. Lance must look confused because she laughs. “I guess it’s just girl stuff.” 

There is a bit of an awkward silence after that. Lance really doesn’t know what to talk about. What have they even been talking about for the last six months? Lance suddenly doesn’t know. 

So he searches his brain for a new conversation starter, and finds himself saying, “Do you believe in aliens?” 

He feels himself blushing at the memory. Kate looks at him like he’s absolutely insane. “What kind of question is that?”

“I don’t know. I mean, do you ever think about it? Like, what could be out there?”

“Not really” she shrugs, “I mean even if there is anything out there, we’ll probably never see it, so why wonder about it?” 

She has a point, but Lance isn’t happy about it. “I mean, maybe because it’s fun? To like, wonder about it.”

She laughs. It’s not in a mean way, but something is unsettled in Lance’s stomach “That’s your idea of fun? You are a very strange boy, Lance.” 

He sighs quietly, looking down at his food. “Yeah…Yeah I sure am.” 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

The date is fine, but thats all it is. Just fine. Lance drops Kate off at her place with a peck on the lips. She invites him in and they make out on the couch for what feels like forever, but is actually only ten minutes. There is a small hickey underneath Lance’s jaw when he leaves her apartment, and he stares at it like it’s an invasion of his privacy, and it’s not welcome there. 

Kissing Kate is fun. It used to be thrilling, but now it’s just fun. It’s been a while since they've had sex and Lance could tell that maybe Kate wanted to do it tonight, but for some reason he just wasn’t feeling up to it, which is so rare for him. He figures he should just go back to his apartment and go the fuck to sleep.

His stomach grumbles and he looks down at it. The thing about fancy restaurants is that you pay out of your ass for something that is not even the size of a quarter. Lance needs some real sustenance. 

He decides to stop at the 7-11 across from his apartment before heading home. Junk food options already begin to swirl around in his head. He misses Hunks cooking. In high school Hunk would come over to his place all the time and help his mom cook dinner. They would all eat together. Hunk is an amazing chef.

At this point, his mouth is watering and he walks into the gas station, immediately smelling the greasy pizza and hot dogs. He scurries over to the gas display case filled with deep fried treats and leans over, eagerly scanning the options. His brain is jumping from the pizza to the calzone to the burrito—

“Lance?”

Lance swivels around at his name and immediately regrets doing so. Keith is standing across from him in gray joggers and a loose, white muscle shirt. He’s got his hair up again, very sloppily done, and has a sleepy look in his eyes. His black lip ring looks impressively dark against his skin and his white shirt. In his arms are two large bags of potato chips and a small bottle of coke. 

“Drummer boy?” Lance is trying to quiet the small voice in his head saying _look at those sweatpants he looks so cozy tiny cozy sleepy Keith with junk food at 1AM—_

Keith drags his eyes down Lance’s body, not even trying to be subtle. Lance flushes as he remembers that he is still dressed in formal wear, but he has unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Keith’s eyes stop at Lance’s jaw, presumably where the tiny hickey is, and then returns his gaze to Lance’s face. 

“Wha-“ Keith clears his throat and then tries again. “What are you up to?” 

Lance shrugs. “Ya know, just buying junk food. Making regretful decisions. You?”

Keith looks down at the chips in his hands. “Yeah, same. I wanted some movie snacks.”

“Movie? You having a movie night?” 

“I mean, I guess. I’m watching a cooking documentary. I got hungry.” 

“What is up with you and documentaries?”

Keith shrugs. “They’re fucking great.”He looks hesitant for a second, and then says smoothly, “Wanna come over and find out for yourself? My friend Pidge is over, we could always use the company.” 

Lance is a little taken aback. Go with Keith, to Keith’s place? To watch a movie? With Keith? 

“Yeah, sure.” He sounds a lot calmer than he feels. 

He waits in line behind Keith and contemplates what kind of pizza to get. Keith turns around with a light smirk on his face, “You look really damn good tonight, Lance.” 

“Oh- uh-“ _Flutter flutter flutter_ , “Thanks Keith.” An uncontrollable warmth spreads across his face and he tears his eyes away from Keith’s and back to the pizza.

_STAY CALM YOU IDIOT IT WAS JUST A COMPLIMENT JEEZ—_

“No problem” Keith is way too calm. Lance wants to die. 

With pizza and chips in hand they start walking in the direction of what is presumably Keith apartment. Most of the walk is silent, but it’s a comfortable silence, and Lance revels in the new sensation of being okay with not talking. Every once in a while, Keith brings up something, like pointing out a store he likes or a cafe where the coffee is “so good that he refuses to drink any other kind.” Keith says that he hates whipped cream and Lance is thoroughly insulted, they bicker about their favorite junk foods and Lance scolds him for not liking Doritos, ( _“How can you like Cheetos but not Doritos?” “They’re not fluffy enough!”_ ) Then they are both standing outside an old apartment door with two rusting bronze letters that say 10B, and Keith is unlocking the door and padding into the room. 

Keith’s apartment is exactly how Lance pictured it would be. It’s small, a little plain, and mostly organized except for some shirts on the floor in the corner of the room. Lance likes to think that Keith comes home from a long day and just takes his shirt off, flinging it to the corner of the room before flopping down on the couch. He tries not to picture it for too long, because the image might kill him, but his face warms fondly at the thought. 

There is a girl sitting on the couch with choppy, light brown hair and large round glasses on. She is sitting cross-legged but Lance can tell that she is a tiny person, short and thin. She looks up as Keith enters the room, Lance following a little shyly behind him, and she rolls her eyes, standing up.

“Keith, how many times do I have to tell you not to bring random guys home from the gas station? Do you remember what happened last time?”

Sassy. Jesus she’s sassy as hell. 

Also, last time? How many times has Keith brought home random men from gas stations? 

Keith plops down next to her and chucks a bag of chips at her face. She yelps. “He’s not a random guy, he’s a friend. Pidge, this is Lance. Lance, Pidge. She plays guitar and sings after me on Saturdays. Also, we’ve been neighbors for like five years.” 

“Longest five years of my life.” Pidge says, but there is a fondness in her voice. She looks at Lance, confusion clear on her face. “Nice to meet you Lance.”

“We met at the bar.” Lance tries to clarify. 

“Gotcha.” Pidge says. “Well Lance, wanna come watch how processed chicken nuggets are made?” She gestures towards the open spot on the couch next to Keith. 

Lance’s face breaks into a crooked grin. “Hell yeah.” 

Keith blushes and smiles fondly at him. 

And for the third time that night, Lance wants to die. 

————————

He learns that Pidge is _really fucking smart,_ like, Hunk-level smart if not smarter than that. Throughout the documentary, she is correcting the narrator, explaining how the machines in the factories work, proposing new ideas for more efficient nugget making, and taking out her laptop reluctantly to help her friend with his differential equations homework over the phone, all of which sounds effortless and even fun for her. 

Lance wonders how on earth someone like her had become so close with someone like Keith. How much does she know about Keith? Lance wants to know that much about Keith. 

As the documentary starts to come to a close, Pidge stands up and walks towards the kitchen. “Anyone want anything to drink? Keith has got way too much beer for one person, and I think he needs to get rid of it.”

Keith scowls. “How did you find my beer stash? I was literally gone for like fifteen minutes!” 

“It’s not that easy to miss, Keith. It’s fucking huge. Where on earth did you mange to get all of this beer anyhow?”

Keith doesn’t look at Pidge as he shrugs. “It was a gift form someone.” 

Pidge smirks knowingly and looks at Lance. “See why I keep him around? So many guys are in love with him that I get free stuff all the time.” 

Lance knows he is not hiding his shock very well. “Some random guy got you four cases of beer?”

Keith looks at him with that familiar confidence shining in his eyes. ‘I mean, I gave him a great time so—“

“Ew ew ew stop” Pidge interjects, “I don’t want to hear about your gross sex adventures.” 

“They’re not _that_ gross” Keith says defensively.

“Keith, they are _so gross._ Are you forgetting I live next to you?” 

They both look at each other and then burst out laughing, as if this is a conversation they have had a million times before. Lance takes in as much as he can of Keith’s laugh before it is gone again. 

Okay, so Keith has a lot of sex. A lot of gay sex. With strangers. It’s not a big deal. It’s totally not a big deal. Lance doesn't care at all that the sex was _so good_ that a man actually bought Keith four cases of expensive beer. It doesn’t matter. Lance doesn’t care at all. 

Pidge throws them both a can and they all flop down on the couch again. “We can play a drinking game?” She suggests. 

Keith grins. “Wanna go with the usual?” 

“Whats the usual?” Lance asks. 

“We put on a documentary about aliens, and every time they say “alien”, we drink.” 

Lance rolls his eyes. “Of course that’s the usual.”

And it turns out that it’s the usual for a reason, because two hours and 16 beers later, they are a little more than pleasantly tipsy and giggling like crazy at the theories on the TV. When the documentary ends, Pidge yawns, standing up and wobbling slightly. “Yeah, I’m too tiny for that much beer.” She says, matter of factly. “I’m going to go home and pass out. It was really nice to meet you Lance. I hope Keith brings you again.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Pidge.”

Pidge waves lazily behind her head as she walks out the door, leaving Lance and Keith sitting alone in his tiny apartment. Lance is very aware of how Keith is pressed up against his side, his body feels exceptionally warm and all Lance wants to do is lean into it. 

“How am I gonna get home? I have no idea where I am.” He sighs. “You can’t drive, can you?” 

Keith looks like he is ready to go to bed, eyes hooded with sleep. He blinks slowly, looking at Lace, and then shakes his head. “Stay the night. I won’t bite I promise.” His voice is rough with sleepiness. Has Lance mentioned that he wants to die? 

“Oh, I uh-“ That is not a good idea by any stretch of the imagination, but the alcohol is pulsing through his body and he feels warm all over. “Yeah, okay.” 

For someone who was making fun of his drink only weeks before, Keith does not look like he is handling this alcohol very well. He stands up slowly and hold his arms out to balance himself. Lance stands up after him and catches his shoulder. “Woah, man. Slow down. You are actually drunk aren’t you? You only had five beers! Whose a little girl now?”

Keith scowled at him, slurring his words a little. “I took two shots ofvwhiskey in th’ kitchen after I wen’ to the bathroom.” 

“What? Why?”

He shrugs, grinning. “I like whiskey.” 

Lance rolls his eyes, taking this opportunity (not that he wants to or anything) to snake his arm around Keith waist, “Come on, big guy.” He says fondly. Keith leans into him and they stumble into the direction that Lance assumes is Keith’s room. 

He drops Keith down on his tiny bed. “I’m going to get you some water.” Lance says, because even in his tipsy state he knows that getting Keith to drink water is probably the best idea. 

When he comes back into the room, Keith’s clothes are on the floor next to the bed and he is curled up into a ball with just his boxers on, his hair splayed against the pillow in all different directions. 

_Fuck Fuck FUCk-_

Lance is not prepared. His mouth goes dry and he tries to stay calm but he can’t because the buzz in his head and the alcohol in his veins is making it very hard for him to think rationally. Keith opens his eyes and smiles at him, extending his arm and patting the empty space on the bed next to him. 

“No” Lance says, “No no nooope. I’ll just sleep on the couch.” Keith pouts. Lance’s hearts flutters. “Keith…” 

“Come on, ‘m drunk and it’s cold. I won’t tell your girlfriend.” 

“My-what? Why would it matter if she knew?” Lance’s face warms. He knows why it would matter.

“Come onnnnnn, scaredy cat. I told you I won’t bite.”

And _Dios,_ Lance wants to. He wants to more than he’s wanted anything in a very long time. He slowly strips off his shirt (but keeps his pants on, thank you very much).

He flops down beside Keith and turns the light off, praying that sleep comes fast for him or else he is so, _so screwed._

He is turned so that his back is towards Keith, and he feels a tap on his shoulder. “Lance?” 

He rolls around to face Keith, his eyes are still adjusting to the darkness but he doesn’t need to see to know how close Keith is. He can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He can feel the warm breath on his lips. 

“Hi” Keith says, and Lance can hear a grin in his voice.

“Hey.” Lance answers dumbly.

It’s such a simple moment, but it’s so intimate. It’s something he hasn’t done with Kate, ever. They have laid in bed together so many times, but it never felt like this. 

“Let’s play twenty questions.” 

“What?” Lance is surprised by the random suggestion. 

“When I was little and I couldn’t fall asleep, Shiro used to play twenty questions with me. It always worked.” 

“Shiro lived with you?”

Keith clears his throat, a little awkwardly. “I lost my parents when I was really little. I was in foster care for a while, and Shiro was my foster brother at the last house I lived in. I was there for six years.” 

Lance curled inwards a little, suddenly wanting to get even closer. “Oh man, I had no idea. Sorry for, uh, bringing it up.” 

“No, it’s not a problem, really. It’s a conversation I have with most people at some point.” He says cooly. 

“Got it.” There is a silence, then, “So lets play then.” 

Keith giggles, “Okay, you first. Ask me something.” 

Lance’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness in the room, and he sees Keith’s face, so close to his. The pale moonlight is lining his messy hair, his sharp jawline, his bare arm, his waist, the slight curve of his hips. He is so _fucking beautiful_ and Lance can’t breathe. He can’t comprehend the twisting in his gut. He can feel the walls that he has tried to build around his brain slowly closing in, starting to crumble, finally starting to give in ever so slightly. 

“Okay…” He says, voice cracking. “Favorite color?”

“Red” Keith says automatically. “You?”

“Blue.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement. Then asks, “Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Dulce de leche.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “You?”

“Definitely rocky road.” 

“Yummy.” 

“If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”

“I’d love to go to Brazil.” Lance says.

“That sounds nice.” Keith says. “I’d love to go to Greece.” 

“The beaches are beautiful there.”

“Yeah.”

They are silent for a while, and Lance is almost sure that Keith is asleep. He feels rhythmic, slow breathing, the breath warm against his face. Keith eyes are closed, his long black lashes curling against his cheeks. Lance figures he should try to sleep too, so he slowly shuts his eyes…

“Nice hickey, by the way.’ He hears the smirk before he sees it, eyes shooting open to look at Keith. Keith’s eyes are still shut but he has a small smirk playing across his lips. Lance’s face warms. The wall crumbles more.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I had a date with Kate earlier today.” It’s sounds so awkward coming out of his mouth. 

“Mmmm, cool.” Keith says. _Crumble crumble._

“Yeah.” Lance doesn’t know why he says it, but then he is talking again. “It’s kind of my thing, you know?” 

“Your what?” Keith’s voice is sleepy, but curious.

“My thing. Like, everyone has that one thing in bed that makes them crazy.” Lance is reeling, his heart beating into his throat. “Mine is like, this spot, right here.” He brings his finger up to the spot where his jaw line meets his ear. His voice sounds shaky, but he keeps talking. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what is driving him to talk about this. “But the worst part is that I can’t hide that spot with anything, so, it’s kind of a bummer when I get a really good mark there.” 

Keith’s eyes are open again, and he is staring at Lance with a wide, blinking expression. Lance clears his throat. “What’s, uh, what’s your spot?” 

Keith continues studying Lance for a bit, but then shrugs. “I don’t like telling people.” He says, voice low and rough. “I like to let them explore, figure it out for themselves.” 

Lance’s heart beats faster. “Well, how will they know?”

Keith smirks, “Oh, they'll know.” 

Lance feels a heat shoot through his entire body. _Crumble crumble crumble._

“Well, I’m never going to find out, right?” Lance says, a little defensively. “So you might as well just tell me.”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Keith asks, the familiar low teasing tone back in his voice.

“I don’t know, I’m curious.” Lance snaps. 

Keith sighs. He hesitates for a moment, and then moves his hand down to his hips. “It’s right here” he says, dusting his thumb over the smooth, pale skin just above his hip bone. He chuckles softly. “I realized it when I was hooking up with this guy in high school, and I had to go to a family dinner the next day. So I told him not to leave any marks on my neck. He just moved down and started leaving marks here instead, and _fuck,_ Lance, it was so good.”

_CRUMBLE CRUMBLE CRUMBLE CRUM—_

“So there. That is confidential information though. For the most part, the unfortunate bastards who wanna fuck me have to figure it out themselves. So don’t go around blabbing. It’s a trade secret.” Keith’s tone is serious, but he has a goofy smile plastered onto his face, and his cheeks are flushed like he is embarrassed.

_Crumble._

Lance is suddenly feeling way too many things, one of them being a familiar heat between his legs that absolutely terrifies him. The smell of Keith is intoxicating, like a cinnamon or a spice, mixed with the small whisper of beer in his breath. They're so close, and the crumbling in Lances brain is so loud he can’t hear his own thoughts. It feels like an avalanche. Keith's eyes look like a brighter purple in the moonlight. The glint reflecting off of the hoop in his lip makes Lance crazy, and suddenly Lance finds himself saying the three words he never wanted have to say out loud to Keith, because he is trying to grasp for everything, anything, that makes him feel like the level-headed, rational boy he once was. 

“‘I’m not gay, Keith.” His toned comes out more panicked than sure. He looks at Keith, whose eyes are closed again, expecting him to get offended. To get angry, To yell at him and ask him to leave. 

Instead, Keith just chuckles softly. It sounds sad. It sounds sleepy. “Yeah, Lance, I know.” 

Keith knows. 

But Lance doesn’t. 

 

Lance doesn’t know anything anymore. He doesn’t know how to be happy with Kate when Keith is always there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. He doesn't know how to deal with the fact that he has only known this boy for a couple months but he feels like they fit so naturally together. He doesn’t know how to comprehend how beautiful Keith is to him, everything about him, and he doesn’t know how to handle the warm, overwhelming sensation spreading across his chest, through his fingertips, through his stomach and all the way down to the tips of his toes. Because this isn’t a friendship, this is different, and it’s a _really fucking big deal._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I dont really have anything to say... just a HUGE HUGE thank you again for everyone who is reading and commenting! I know the pining is getting a little ridiculous but I promise the "snap" is near...Just wanted to make it last a litttllleee longer. Love you all.

Over the next week, Lance is an anxious mess. He knows that Hunk is definitely starting to notice how he is acting, but Hunk knows Lance well enough not to prod. 

Lance has to snap out of this. He has to get back to how he use to be. His life may not have been full of excitement, but least he didn't feel like his heart was trying to suffocate itself all the time. 

He is laying with Kate on his bed, and they’re kissing. Lance’s mind is somewhere far away, but then Kate’s hand slides up underneath his shirt and he realizes that he’s it’s been so long since they've done anything else. He almost feels guilty, because he knows it’s his fault. He doesn’t want Kate thinking that he’s not attracted to her, or that it’s because she's unattractive, because none of that is true. 

And if he is going to get Keith out of his head, having sex with his girlfriend is probably the best way to do it.

He picks up on her cues and rolls on top of her, slipping her dress off. She giggles lightly, sounding eager. Lance leans forward to kiss her again. 

They’ve done this a lot. It is a language they are both fluent in. One piece of clothing after another comes off, and soon they are under the covers. Lance can feel Kate’s body pressed against his, and it’s familiar. Warm, but not too warm. Safe. 

Out of curiosity, Lance dips down and sucks a kiss onto Kate’s hipbone. She giggles, “That’s new.” she says. But that is the extent of her reaction, and Lance is a little disappointed.

They roll around to find a more comfortable position. Lance grabs at Kate’s breasts, her waist, her ass. Her skin is soft, and her limbs are thin and wiry, much like Lance’s. Kate connects her mouth to the skin underneath Lance’s ear and he hums low in his throat. 

It feels good, it really does. 

And when Lance is slipping inside of her it still feels good. And when she pulls him closer and moans into his ear it still feels good. And good is good.

But it’s not _great_. 

When Lance feels himself getting closer to coming undone, he finally feels, for the first time in a really long time, that this is all okay, and that this is all that he wants. 

But then he imagines his tongue swirling just above Keith’s hipbone. He pictures Keith underneath him; writhing, gasping, moaning as his tongue presses into that one spot, that one patch of skin that makes him crazy. He pictures Keith’s chest, rising and falling and his legs shake. He hears Keith say his name, broken and wrecked—

And then he’s coming, much quicker than he though he thought he would, with the image of Keith’s face still etched into his brain. 

_Shit._

______________________________________________________________________

 

Lance sits at the bar and opens his laptop. It is 5PM and the bar is practically empty. Shiro is re-organizing the booze and taking stock of all the different liquors they have. As Lance types, Shiro turns to him curiously, and then props his elbow onto the bar and leans towards Lance. 

“So,” he starts, “when are you going to ask me to give you Keith’s number?”

Lance looks up from his laptop. “What?”

Shiro smiles sympathetically. “Look, I can tell that you really care about Keith, but you can’t honestly believe you are the first guy to come in here asking me about him. So, how long has he been stringing you along?” 

Lance just repeats himself. “What?” 

Shiro sighs. “Hooking up, Lance. How long have you two been hooking up? Is it getting serious? Do I have to get my big brother pants on and give you the talk?” 

“W-what? No! Me and Keith are just friends!” He thinks. He’s pretty sure. Whatever. 

Shiro looks taken aback. “Friends?” 

“Yeah. You know. We watch movies, talk in the bathroom. Friends.”

Shiro doesn’t look convinced. Lance raises an eyebrow at him. 

“That doesn’t sound like Keith.” Shiro says, sounding lost. 

Lance shrugs, trying not to let his heart get too inflated at the words. Then, like an idiot, he says. “I wouldn’t mind having his number though…”

Shiro laughs, and there is a feeling in it that Lance can’t place. “Alright Lance, I’ll give it to you. But I’m telling you right now, Keith isn’t as strong as he pretends to be, so try not to fuck him up too much.” 

“How could I fuck him up?” 

Shiro shrugs. “I don’t know, man. You’re not his type at all, so I guess I don’t have to worry about that, but—“

“Also, I’m straight, and I have a girlfriend-“ Lance tries, but Shiro cuts him off.

“Just be careful with him. Please.”

Lance feels like all of the wind has been knocked out of him, for several different reasons, and he just nods dumbly. Keith really did get around, didn’t he? Lance wonders how many hearts he’s broken. Lance wonders how many times people have broke his. 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Lance looks down at the number in his phone, under the name “Keith Kogane”. 

With shaking fingers, he types out a message, and hits send before he can stop himself. 

**To: Keith Kogane**

_hey stranger_

He throws his phone underneath his pillow and stares at the ceiling. _“You’re not his type…”_ He can still hear Shiro’s words ringing in his ears. He is right. Lance totally isn’t. He doesn’t have tattoos, or big muscles, or a tough personality. He is just tall, and lanky, and awkwardly funny. 

His phone buzzes and he practically leaps from his bed, grabbing it with both of his hands and opening the message.

**To: Lance**

_uh…who is this?_

And then six seconds later, 

_If this is the guy from the gym then the answer is no, although I will take the blow job._

Lance stares at his phone blankly. 

**To: Keith Kogane**

_lol this is Lance_

He adds the “lol” to make it seem like he’s not flipping a shit. 

**To: Lance**

_oh shit, sorry Lance. wait how did you get my number?_

**To: Keith**

_Shiro gave it to me, so now I can bug you all the time._

_Sorry to get in the way of your blow job :p_

**To: Lance**

_Eh, whatever, it’ll probably still happen._

Lance frowns. Whatever, It’s not like he cares who sucks Keith’s dick. 

**To: Keith**

_Watcha up to?_

He feels like he is being pushy but he can’t stop himself. Having th ability to talk to Keith whenever he wants to is suddenly a very large responsibility that he doesn’t feel ready to have. 

**To: Lance**

_Just practicing some drumming. You?_

**To: Keith**

_Just laying. Thinking about doing a face mask._

**To: Lance**

_A face mask? Lance, I’m the gay one remember?_

**To: Keith**

_SKINCARE IS IMPORTANT_

**To: Lance**

_You are ridiculous._

**To: Keith**

_You love it._

 

 

Over the next week or so, Lance finds himself having meaningless conversations with Keith almost every day. He can’t help it, Keith is actually a really fun texter, and talking with him on a regular basis makes Lance feel less like he’s going crazy wondering about him. Some days Keith texts him at 3AM wit things like;

**To: Lance**

_Did you know that a whale dick is called a dork?_

**To: Keith**

_You’re a dork. Go the fuck to sleep._

Or sometimes Lance will text Keith in the middle of the day and say;

**To: Keith**

_You should put on Chopped right now because they are making the most insane sandwiches with duck meat._

**To: Lance**

_Lance. Why would I give a fuck?_

**To: Keith**

_You’ll give a fuck once you see how amazing they are._

**To: Lance**

_….._

_fine_

_what channel_

**To: Keith**

_126, The Food Network, I need to try one of these sandwiches Keith._

**To: Lance**

_Holy shit, those do look really good. Duck is so fucking good._

**To: Keith**

_Ive actually never tried it_

**To: Lance**

_WHat? Why the fuck are you making me watch this then?_

**To: Keith**

_because MAYBE i’d like to try it someday, Keith! And MAYBE i like to see how it’s prepared! God, you’re so JUDGMENTAL_

**To: Lance**

_And you’re so dramticcccc_

**To Keith**

_Stfu drummer boy._

Soon it just becomes a part of Lances day, and he expects it. He waits for Keith’s crazy messages and they make his face hurt from grinning, and if he blushes like an idiot, that is nobodies business but his. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

One day, Lance is on his bed typing a paper when his phone buzzes against his thigh. 

**To: Lance**

_Food?_

Lance stares at the word like it is in another language. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to answer. 

**To: Keith**

_Sure, where?_

**To: Lance**

_I know really good place. Meet me at the bar and we can walk from there_

 

Lance shuts his laptop and jumps out of bed way too quickly. He looks around in his closet for something to wear that isn’t the shit Keith usually sees him in. He opts for a navy blue and white striped t-shirt and some dark jeans. Not that he cares what Keith thinks about how he looks. But, you know, he just wants to feel good. 

He puts on cologne for what feels like the first time in probably five years, throws on his olive green jacket, and races out the door. He is bounding towards the elevator when he turns the corner and crashes into Kate. 

He yelps a little and then looks up at him. “Lance?”

“Hi, babe!” Why is his voice so high? Jesus. 

She chuckles curiously. “Where are you off to, looking so cute?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t look _that_ cute. And I’m just getting food with Keith.” It feels so strange coming out of his mouth. He clears his throat, attempting to appear clam. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Wait, that waiter? The guy you smoked with?” She sounds concerned. 

  
“Yeah, he’s really cool We’re like…friends now.” He feels like his mouth is moving faster than his brain, and those are the words that decide to come out. 

Kate hums. “Oh, okay.” She doesn’t sound very happy.

Lance frowns. “What? Why are you mad?”

She sighs. “He was rude to me. I don’t like that you are all buddy-buddy with him now. That’s all.” 

“But he really is a nice guy, he was probably just having a bad day.” _He was literally sexually assaulted twenty minutes after you left._

“I don’t know. I don’t trust guys like him.”

Lance knows that she is trying to tell him not to go, and the irritation is probably clear on his face. She scowls at him. 

“Fine Lance, whatever. Just, have fun.” She sounds mad. She _is_ mad. She storms past Lance and he knows that a good boyfriend would follow her. Comfort her.

But the elevator opens in front of him, and he makes his choice, stepping in and slamming the “close door” button 

Keith is waiting for him at the bar, head propped up by his hand as he scrolls through his phone. Lance’s blood rushes to his face when he sees him. Keith is wearing a black, jesus is that a _crop top_? And loose black pants with his red combat boots. There is a sliver of his pale stomach showing and he is sitting, hunched over, giving Lance an exposed view of his lower back.

Lance feels like his brain is short circuiting. How? How can he wear things like that and still look so fucking good? His stomach feels like it’s turning inside out. He takes a deep, slightly desperate breath, and walks up to where Keith is sitting. 

“Hi.” He says, weakly.

Keith looked up and grins at him, practically blinding him. “Hey, ready to go?”

Lance nods and they started making their way to the exit.

It is a beautiful day outside. The sun hasn’t been out in a while, or maybe if it was, Lance was always studying and never got to see it very much. But he breathes it in now, feeling it beating down on his face. He is made for summer, for warm days like this. 

He looks at Keith and Keith is already looking at him. Overwhelmed, he turns away and tries to start a conversation. 

“So, where are you taking me?” 

“It’s a really delicious place. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but like, what kind of food is it?”

Keith mulls it over in his head for a bit. Then just simply says, “Sandwiches.”

“Mmmm” 

“Yep.”

“So, your shirt is cut in half.” _Smooth Lance, real smooth._

Keith laughs out loud, the raspy sound making goosebumps rise all over Lance’s body. “Yeah, it’s half a shirt. That’s what it is.”

“Interesting choice of wardrobe.”

He already knows Keith is smirking without even looking at him. 

“Good interesting?” His voice is dripping with confidence.

“Yeah,” Lance says, nodding slowly, hesitantly, as if the words he is about to say are dangerous. He laughs shyly. “Yeah, really good.” 

Keith blushes a little, but his lips are still quirked to the side in a smirk. Lance’s stomach flutters uncontrollably. 

“This was my ‘rebellious gay’ outfit in high school.” 

Lance laughs. “What? What do you mean?”

Keith is grinning. “After I came out, I was kind of an outcast. So I was bitter, and just wanted to make people more uncomfortable. I started wearing all this girly shit, and ended up really liking it.” He was chucking now. “The captain of the football team tried to make out with me in the locker room one day, so I guess people weren’t as straight as they pretended to be.”

“ _Dios mio,_ Keith, you wore crop tops to school? _High School?”_

Keith raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay first of all, did you just speak Spanish to me? And second of all, yes I did.” He says proudly. “And trust me, the captain of the football team wasn’t the only person who liked it. There were tons of closeted fuckers at that school. I was the only one with the courage to come out. So fuck all of ‘em, right?”

Lance giggles but his mind is reeling. “So I guess Shiro was right about your attitude. You’ve got some serious anger in you past, man.”

“Oh whatever, I was a pissed off guy. You would be too if people made fun of you in the hallway and then tried to grope you in the bathroom on the same day.” 

“Yeah, sounds shitty.”

“Well the groping part was fun.”  


“Seriously Keith?”

“What? I have needs.”

Lance dissolves into laughter and they slow their pace down. When they come to a complete stop, he looks up at a shabby sign that says “Vrepit Sals”. The place is a hole in the wall— small and crowded. The walls are covered with paintings and trinkets. Lance scans the interior, confused. 

“Ta-daaaa” Keith says, with as much drama as the poor bean can muster. Then, seeing Lance’s confused face, he announces, “Welcome to Vrepit Sals, home of the best duck meat sandwich in the state.”

Lance stares. 

And stares. 

And continues staring. 

He is looking at Keith and trying to find words. Any words. Anything at all. Keith is standing awkwardly, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other extended outward in presentation, making a one handed “Jazz Hands” gesture. He has a shy smile on his face, but his eyes are shining with an adorable anticipation, and Lance’s heart feels too full, and he feel like there isn’t enough oxygen around him. Keith actually brought him here. Thought about him enough to plan this. Lance has so many fucking butterflies in his stomach that he feels light headed. He does the only thing he can think of. 

He lets out a pathetic squeak and tackles Keith into a hug, enveloping the small boy in his long limbs. Keith jumps at the sudden contact, letting out a small “oof” as Lance collides into him. Then, ever so slowly, Keith is hugging Lance back, snaking his arms around him waist and moving them up his back. Lance shivers at the movement and hopes that Keith doesn’t feel it.

Keith is laughing against him. Lance can feel it in his shoulders, his warm chest, his toned stomach. 

“It’s just a sandwich Lance. God, are you this dramatic about everything?” But his voice sounds fond. Lance, yet again, feels like he wants to die. 

He starts to feel a little too warm and lets go of Keith, laughing nervously. Keith doesn’t realize how sweet this is. He doesn’t realize what he is doing to Lance. He doesn’t seem to understand how much this means to him. Does he not know how cute this is? 

“Alright then,” he says, bumping his should against Keith’s. “Lets try some duck!”

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

It only takes them half an hour to shovel the sandwiches in to their mouths. They barely speak to each other because they are too busy inhaling their food. There is the occasional, “fuck this is so good” and “Mmmm fucking kill me”, but that’s all. When their plates are clean, the both slump back in their chairs and hold their stomachs. Keith groans.

“I am going to die.” He says.

“Keith.” Lance sits up. “That was so. fucking. good.” 

Keith lets out a laugh. “See? Now you’ve tried duck, _and_ you know how to prepare it.” 

“I’m a lucky man.”

“Yes you are.” 

And he really, _really_ feels like he is when Keith’s smirk breaks into a crooked grin. “Wanna get outta here?”

Lance smirks, standing up. “After you.” 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

When they leave the sandwich shop, it’s already getting dark outside. They are both quiet, and Lance feels a food coma slowly overtaking him. He blinks sleepily and turns towards Keith. Keith looks just as sleepy, a pleasant smile playing across him lips. Lance glances down for a moment and lets his eyes drink up the sliver of pale skin above Keith’s waistline. He see’s the thin line of Keith’s boxers peeking out of his pants. They are black. Calvin Klein. Literally only hot people wear Calvin Klein, Lance decides. 

“There is nothing to do in this stupid town.” Keith’s drawls. 

“You sound, quite literally, like you are in an early 2000’s emo boy band.” 

“But it’s true!” Keith exclaims. 

“I have fun here! The bar is fun.”

“Well yeah, but there’s literally three bars. And two of them suck. The last one sucks less. There is the bar, and the junk yard, and that’s it.”

Lance stops walking. “Junkyard? What the hell are you talking about?”

Keith stops ahead of him and turns around. “You know, the junk yard across from the gas station? There’s literally just miles and miles of junk.”

“You mean…you mean a _literal_ junk yard?”

Keith looks at Lance like it is the most obvious thing on the planet. “Yes?”

Lance is laughing incredulously. “That is your idea of fun? A junk yard? Who even are you?” 

Keith frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks like an angry child. _Fucking adorable._ “What do you mean? It’s a great time! I find all kinds of cool stuff there! That’s where I found my drum sticks! And my favorite mug!”

Lance absolutely cannot believe that this is the same boy who he met in the bathroom, who sucked some strangers dick in a stall. This boy who always seems like a sexual deviant, the most charming and seductive person Lance has ever met, is now standing in front of him huffing like a child throwing a tantrum, yelling about his favorite mug. 

Lance feels his heart inflating. 

“Fuck it, I’m taking you there, you dick.” Keith says, finally breaking the silence. He is actually legitimately angry, and Lance thinks it’s endearing. He remember’s Shiro’s words; _“He has very strong beliefs, he gets really frustrated when people disagree with him.”_

Lance is grinning when Keith angrily grabs his wrist sand starts dragging him down the dark and winding street. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

Lance has to admit, the junk yard is really fucking cool. 

They jump the fence with ease and he is faced with the most beautiful sight that a broke, college student can behold. 

There are mountains upon mountains of junk; car parts, computer parts, tools, even furniture. Lance runs around like a kid in a candy shop, and Keith follows behind him like a proud parent. 

“How do people throw all of this stuff away? This is a perfectly good charging cable for my phone!” Lance exclaims, amazed. 

Keith is grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t it sweet? I could spend hours here, this place is so cool.” 

Lance sighs way too fondly. “You are one seriously strange kid.” 

It is pitch black out now, the only light coming from the florescent lamp posts that hang overhead. Keith is giggling and picking up half of an old tire, filling it with knick knacks and gadgets that he finds within the piles. Lance just stretches his shirt out in front of him to make a pouch and starts throwing shit in it. 

“Look at this screwdriver!”

“Oh sweet! a steering wheel!”

“ _I FOUND A CAN OPENER._ ”

Lance doesn’t know how long they explore, covering themselves with dirt and what appears to be motor oil. It feels like five minutes, but when they reconvene and look at their phones, it is already midnight. Their eyes meet and, with their hands full of junk and their faces covered in dirt, they burst out laughing. 

“I feel like a fucking child.” Lance says between breaths. 

Keith puts his tire down next to him and takes a few steps closer to Lance. “Let me put the stuff in the other half of the tire.” He says, scooping his hands into the front of Lances shirt and collecting his belongings. 

“Thanks” Lance breathes. 

They are standing face to face with an amount of space between them that Lance would quantify as “not enough for him to remain sane”. Keith’s face is shiny with sweat, his hair a mess, and there is a smear of black oil on the top of his cheek that Lance is itching to wipe off for him. He knows that there are stars out tonight and he doesn't even need to look up, because Keith’s dark eyes are _literally filled_ with the reflections of the tiny silver dots in the sky. Lance feels like he could write poems about Keith’s face. Or novels. Or maybe telenovelas. Keith is smiling softly at him, probably waiting for him to speak, but he has completely forgotten how. 

For the third time that night, his eyes trail down to Keith’s bare stomach. He can feel Keith’s eyes tracking the movement, but he doesn’t care. He sees the smooth skin covering Keith hip bone. That small patch of skin that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since Keith told him about it. It looks so soft, so easy to touch.

Lance reaches forward, hand shaking, feeling terrified, and places his hand on Keith’s waist, splaying his long fingers against Keith’s lower back. He takes his thumb and strokes it, gentle as ever, in a small circle just above Keith’s hip.

Keith lets out a shaky, quiet laugh. “Lance-“ He breathes, and there is a warning in his tone. 

“Just…just let me…” He doesn’t know what to say, because Keith’s skin feels so damn good underneath his fingertips. He continues drawing tiny circles on Keith’s hip and slowly making them bigger and bigger. 

It’s such a simple touch. So light. So small. 

But Keith is blushing furiously and stepping in closer to Lance without even realizing. He lets out a bit of a shaky breath as Lance’s hand moves from his waist to his stomach, dragging his fingertips along Keith’s hip and stopping somewhere just beneath his belly button. He feels the muscles jump slightly under his touch, and then he feels that familiar heat again, running from his toes straight to his face and collecting very quickly between his legs.

_I need to stop I need to stop i need to stop i needtostopineedtostop_

But he does the opposite, and moves his hand up slightly instead, curling his fingers over Keith’s tight abs and then tracing downwards again, stopping with his fingertips at the waistline of Keith jeans. 

He hasn’t even done anything. Just light drags of his fingers, feathering over Keith skin. But he is so, _so turned on_ , and he feels like he is being driven crazy.

Keith lets out another shaky breath. “Lance,” he says, voice lower than usual, “why are you-“

“Did you wear this on purpose?” Lance asked, voice deep, cracking toward the end of the question. His fingertips are still gliding back and forth just under the hem of Keith top, and he pulls on the corner of it harshly as he asks.

Keith stares wide-eyed at him, “What?”

“This _fucking shirt_ Keith. This stupid, _stupid_ half of a shirt.” 

“Why would it matter?” Keith says, sounding agitated. “You’re not gay, remember?”

Lance falters a little. “No, I’m not.” 

“So then why,” Keith grabs Lance’s wrist and pulls it away from his waist, “why is your hand up my fucking _half of a shirt?”_

Lance’s hand desperately misses the touch.

“Why are you doing this to me, Lance?” Keith doesn’t sound angry, just exhausted.

And then at probably the worst time ever, Lance’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out and sees Kate’s face, glaringly bright on the screen.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-_

“I’ll let you take that.” Keith says, his words emotionless. Before Lance can stop him he is already halfway gone. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has officially taken priority over homework, so that's how my life is going. This chapter is a bit shorter but that's because the chapter after this one is looking like its gunna be a monster. Got some more fluff here, but Lance finally gets his head out of his ass. Enjoy! and Thanks SO MUCH for reading!

Two days go by. Then three. Four. Five. No word from Keith. No funny texts. It is a Friday evening when the walls around Lance’s brain finally crumble to the ground. It starts when Hunk asks a simple question. 

“What’s going on with you?”

Lance looks up from his laptop. He’s sitting at his desk, chair turned towards Hunk, who is sprawled out on his bed looking at the ceiling. Lance doesn’t answer at first. But then says, “Me? What do you mean?” His voice squeaks, making his question sound extremely defensive.

“Come on, Lance.” Hunk sits up, now face to face with him. “I’ve known you for like ten years. Don’t make me play guessing games with you. You’ve been acting really weird, and we haven't hung out in like three weeks. Kate says you won’t talk to her. What’s your deal?”

Lance knows there is no point in lying, but he tries anyway. “It’s just schoolwork, ya know? I’m so worried that I’m starting to do worse than I used to.” 

Hunk doesn’t even dignify the lie with a response. He just stares at Lance, waiting expectantly. 

Lance sighs in defeat. “I’ve been…going to the bar. A lot.” 

“The bar?” Hunk raises an eyebrow at him. “By yourself?”

“I have a crush on a boy. A big, nasty, soul sucking, life ruining crush.” 

Lance blurts it loudly, the words falling off of his tongue without his permission, like they've been dying to get out. Hearing it come out of his mouth sounds foreign and terrifying, and makes it feel way too real. He sees Hunk’s shocked expression and it makes him incredibly nervous. So he decides to do what he does best when he’s nervous, and he starts rambling.

“I don’t know whats going on Hunk. I see him and then I just want to see him again and again. I like his smile, and his hair, and his stupid lip ring, and I can’t, for the life of me, stop thinking about him. I mean, not that I’m _thinking_ about him, you know? But like, he likes Cheetos? And he has anger issues. But like, not really anymore—“

“Lance,” 

“And I think his laugh is pretty? I literally have never thought of a laugh as pretty, Hunk. And he’s super pale but it works for him _and_ he can pull off a man bun. Like, how many people do you know who can pull off a man bun? It’s insanity—“

“Lance…”

“And I feel like I’m losing my mind because I want him to be happy but I barely know him, and I shouldn’t be this attracted to a boy but I am, and he watches alien documentaries, and I just think he’s beautiful, and I feel like I’m dying—“

_“LANCE.”_

Lance lets out a long breath that he didn't realize he was holding. He looks down and sees his hands shaking. He refuses to meet Hunks eyes. 

There are a few beats of silence then, and Lance contemplates jumping out of the window to end this awkward misery. 

Hunk takes a long, deep breath. “So obviously, we’re talking about that drummer kid, right? What’s his name? Keith? So I don’t have to spend half the night guessing that.” 

Honestly Lance isn’t at all surprised that Hunk knows who he’s talking about. Hunk literally knows all. 

“So how about you actually tell me what’s been going on so I have some backstory to this random epiphany?” 

Lance feels relief swirling comfortably in his chest. He realizes at that moment that he has missed Hunk so much; being able to confide in him, talk to him, laugh with him. 

So he tells Hunk everything. Well, almost everything. He leaves out the part where Keith was sucking some guys dick in the bathroom, and only slightly goes over the assault incident. But he tells Hunk about how they talked at the bar, how they smoked weed together, how they went shopping for a new lip ring. He tells him about how he went to the bar every day for a week, talking with Shiro about everything and anything having to do with Keith. He tells him about how he feels like a puddle of his former self when Keith plays the drums, and then he tells him about meeting Pidge, and falling asleep next to Keith, and wanting to do it again and again. 

He tells him about how they text almost everyday, and how Keith took him to try a duck sandwich and how they went to the junk yard and collected pieces of broken cars for hours like children. He tells him about how he felt like he needed to touch Keith all the time, and how his fingertips felt like they were on fire when Keith was in reach. With a shaky voice he tells him about how hurt Keith was when he left Lance alone, surrounded by piles of junk.

Hunk just sits still and listens, nodding occasionally so that Lance is aware he is still paying attention. Lance’s voice is hoarse by the end of his rant, and he for some reason feels a little like he wants to cry. He takes a shaky breath and lets it out, finally finishing with, “And I’m terrified, Hunk. I’m so fucking scared. Because I have had four girlfriends, and I have never felt like this before. Not once. And he is a _boy_. And I am insane.”

Hunk’s face is unreadable. He looks at Lance and doesn’t speak for a moment, but then the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, eyes narrowing slightly. “I _knew_ you thought he was cool.” 

Lance wants to scream. “I hate you so very much.” 

“Lance, why did it take so long for you to tell me?” 

“Because telling you would make it…a thing. I don’t want it to be a thing.” 

“It is very much a thing, Lance.” There is concern in his voice.

“I don’t want it to be. It’s not right. I’m with Kate. I like girls.”

Hunk shrugs. “Maybe you like boys too.”

“It doesn’t… I’m not…”

“Or maybe you just like Keith.”

Lance sighs, long and tired, bringing his knees to his chest and hiding his face behind them. “God dammit, Hunk. What the hell do I do? I can’t like him.” 

Hunk moves so he is sitting on the bed next to Lance. He puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes slightly. “Hey, Lance, look at me.” 

Lance slowly turns his head towards Hunk. 

“What is the number one thing that is bothering you right now?” Hunk’s voice is gentle.

Lance doesn’t even have to think about it. “He’s upset with me, Hunk.” 

Hunk smiles softly. “Alright. How about you fix that first, and then we can worry about everything else?” 

Lance tackles Hunk into a hug and Hunk squeezes him tightly, and for a minute Lance just bathes in the grateful feeling washing over him, that he always has someone like Hunk to pick up all of his broken pieces. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

Lance is sitting at the bar and feeling like an idiot. He doesn’t have his laptop. He doesn’t have a pad of paper. He is just sitting. Alone. 

Shiro comes out form the kitchen and looks at him, confused. Before he can say anything, Lance asks, “Is Keith here?” 

“Uh, yeah, he’s in the back with the band.” Shiro frowns. “Is everything okay?” There is a small note of ‘ _if you hurt my little brother I’m going to murder you’_ in his voice. 

“Y-yeah, everything is fine. I just need to talk to him. Thanks.” He practically jumps over the bar and races through the double doors leading to the kitchen. He hears Shiro behind him shouting “Lance wait you can’t just hop over the—“ but he blocks him out and keeps bounding forward. 

He hears Keith talking before he sees him. There is a door at the back of the kitchen that is slightly open. Lance peeks in, making sure he is not seen, and sees Keith sitting on a table surrounded by his bandmates. One of them says something and Keith laughs out loud, placing this hands on his stomach and then poking his bandmate with the tip of his drumstick. He is saying something back that Lance can’t hear, probably something witty, based on the size of the shit eating grin on his face, and his band mate punches him lightly on the shoulder. 

Keith is giggling as one of the other bandmates gets up and walks towards him. He has confidence shining in his eyes and his bandmate says something above him, making Keith giggle even harder as he looks up at him. Keith is fluttering his eyelashes and he lifts one hand to other man’s chest, poking it, and then slowly trailing his finger down his front. His bandmate swats his hand away jokingly. Keith smirks and then shrugs, tapping out an upbeat rhythm onto the edge of the table with him drumsticks. 

Keith is _such a flirt._

_So this is what he looks like in action._ Lance feels his stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t really fully seen this side of Keith before. His hands are shaking and he takes a deep, steadying breath before stepping forward and opening the door. 

The minute Keith sees him, his face drops. 

There are four pairs of eyes on him now. 

“Hi…uh…” Lance has planned this a million times in his head but now he is completely speechless. 

“Lance?” 

“Hey, Keith.”

“What on earth are you doing here?” He hops off the table and shoves his drumsticks into his waistband. He is wearing a grey hoodie and black pants. He looks good. 

“I’ll be right back guys.” He says to his bandmates, and then he walks into the kitchen with Lance, shutting the door behind them.

They turn towards each other. Keith is frowning slightly and he has his arms crossed over his chest. “Lance.” He sounds exasperated. “What are you doing here?”

There is an awkwardness that is tangible in the air. Lance reflexively start picking at his nails, which is what he always does when he is nervous. Keith is still gazing at him expectantly. 

“Look, I’m sorry for…I’m sorry” Lance starts, voice shaking. “I know that I shouldn’t have…I just…” He can’t really bring himself to talk about what happened. So instead, he settles for, “Look, Keith, you are my friend, and I miss you.”

Keith’s expression softens.

“And I’m sorry.” Lance says again, quickly. 

Keith looks at him for a bit longer, but then sighs. “It’s okay, Lance. I guess I’m just finally getting a taste of my own medicine, after all these years.” He frowns, looking down.“And it pisses me off.” 

“What? What do you mean?” 

Keith chuckles wryly. “I dont know, man, I mean…I’ve strung so many people along. Lead them on, ya know? And didn’t care about their feelings. And now I’m on the other side, and it’s worse than I thought it would be.”

Lance just stares at him. “I- what do you-?” 

“Nothing, just- I know we’re friends.” He smiles softly at Lance. “I’m glad we are. I miss you too.” 

Lance doesn’t really know what to say. 

“So, I’ll forgive you.” He is smirking, Lance lets out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Okay… Okay good I’m glad.” 

They just stand in silence, looking at each other for a moment. Then Lance says, “You can go back to your practice. Sorry for interrupting.”

Keith shrugs. “We weren’t doing anything anyway, just fucking around. I can tell them I’m busy and we can get out of here if you want.” 

“I’d really like that.” Lance agrees to it before he can think it through, which wasn’t really the best idea. “Maybe you can help me with my stats homework. I don’t understand jack shit about it.” 

Keith laughs again, loud and shameless, and Lance’s heart warms tremendously. 

He’s okay with this. He can do this. He can just be Keith’s friend. Keith has so many other guys to kiss, to fuck, to like, and Lance just shouldn't be one of them. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

After three hours of very frustrating stats homework, Lance flops down on his bed, mentally exhausted, and Keith flops down next to him. They lay, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling. That’s when Lance realizes—

“Are those glow in-the-dark stars?” Keith asks incredulously. 

Lance bushes furiously. “I forgot that I put those up,” he chuckles nervously. “They, uh…help me fall asleep sometimes. When I’m really anxious.” 

“How?”

“I don’t know…I like the idea of space?” He is such an idiot. He feels like an idiot. “It calms me down.” 

Keith chuckles darkly. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Lance pouts. “What? It’s not that bad.” 

“No,” Keith shakes his head, giggling, “It’s just unbelievable how incredibly adorable you are.” 

That doesn’t help Lance’s blushing situation. He feels heat flare all over his body. “I’m not adorable.”

“You _totally_ are.”

They both giggle a little nervously, trying to fill the silence. 

“I once dated this guy,” Keith says, a smile in his voice, “who was so obsessed with squirrels that he had a poster of one on his ceiling, wearing a baseball cap.” 

“Shut up.”

“I swear.” Keith laughed. “He loved them. He swore they were godlike beings, always saying that humans underestimated them.” 

“That’s…”

“Weird? Yeah I know. And I didn’t realize until he was fucking me into the mattress and I looked over his shoulder and saw a giant squirrel staring down at me.”

Lance barks a laugh. “That is possibly the greatest story I’ve heard today.” 

Keith shrugs. “I’ve dated a lot of weird-ass people.”

“I’m almost jealous.”

Keith snorts. “Don’t be. Dating isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That’s why I just stick to hooking up.” 

Lance mulls the statement over in his brain and desperately wants to ask, _but have you ever been in love? Who broke your heart? Can I hug you?_

But he likes the light-hearted conversation they are having right now and doesn’t want to ruin it. “So how long do you think your list is? 

He knows Keith hears the question, because he can feel him rolling onto his side to face Lance. Lance rolls onto his side too, so they are laying face to face. 

“My list?” Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, of people you’ve hooked up with.” 

Keith’s face is blank. “You go first.”

“Me? How many people have I hooked up with? Hmmm.” Lance already knows that he’s only slept with three girls in his life, and those were his past three girlfriends. But if they are including just casual hookups, then…

“Maybe like seven?” 

Keith smirks, eyes glinting. “You are so pure.” 

Lance falters, “What do you mean? Seven is a lot!”

Keith is grinning now, “Maybe for you.” 

Lance ignores the persistent heat collecting in his cheeks, his chest, between his legs. He tries not to think of Keith in several different compromising positions and fails miserably. 

“Alright then,” he snaps, “How many, Keith?”

“It’s a long list, Lance. I was so drunk for half of them that I probably don’t even remember.” 

“Just give it your best shot.”

“I don’t know? Twenty-five?” 

“ _Twenty-five?”_

“I don’t know! I’ve been out of the closet for like seven years! A lot can happen in seven years.” Keith’s lips tug upwards, “I mean, I know there’s been at least four in the last two months.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“It’s really not that impressive, anyone can hook up with anyone, it doesn’t take much skill.”

“Lies, it totally does. You’ve got something, Keith.”

Keith’s eyes are smiling before his mouth does. “Nah, I really don’t.”

“I’d never be able to pull as many guys as you do. I’m not nearly as sexy as you.” 

Silence. 

Keith’s shit-eating grin is too much for Lance’s heart. He watches as Keith bites his lower lip, tugging at his lip ring, before releasing it; his lip is shiny and pink, plumping back to its original shape. Lance tracks the movement, his nerves jittery. _Why did I say that out loud why did I say that out loud—_

“So you think I’m sexy?” Keith’s voice is so, _so smooth._

“I-I mean,” Lance stumbles over his words. “Anyone with eyes can see it. Even your brother said that you have a way with people.” 

Keith hums, low and satisfied. “Mmkay then.” He sounds smug. 

Lance’s brain is screaming. He suddenly realizes how close they are, with a mere five inches of space separating their faces. 

“You are, by the way.” Keith’s voice is shy.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “I’m what?” 

“Sexy. _”_

More silence. 

Keith blinks slowly at him. 

“You dont really think that.” Lance says quietly, self consciously, remembering Shiro’s words, _“You’re not his type at all…”._

“But I do.” Keith says, voice slow like molasses. “I really do.” 

Lance feels like he just ran a marathon. He sighs evenly to try and settle his irregular heart rate. 

“Thanks, Keith.’

Keith nods. “Mmhm.” 

A few beats of silence pass and Keith slowly starts to sit up. Lance wants to scream and pull him back down, already missing the heat wafting off of his body. 

“I should go.” Keith says gruffly, “I have, uh, a late shift tonight at the bar.”

“Oh, okay.” Lance sits up. “You know the way out?”

Keith smiles. “Yeah…yeah I do” He picks up his bag. “See you soon?”

Lance smiles, a little crooked. “Yeah of course.” 

Keith waves a little shyly, and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

The silence that fills the room is deafening. Lance stares at the wall, lets his ears ring, hears his own heart beating dangerously fast, threatening to spill out of his chest.

And Lance already misses him. 

It hits him like a train. A large, 10,000 ton, fast and unforgiving train. The feelings that he has been stifling for so long, suddenly swallowing him whole, at an overwhelmingly fast pace. His chest feels tight, and he feels like he’s sinking. His stomach explodes with butterflies and a heat spreads across his face that burns dangerously. Keith’s cinnamon smell is still lingering on Lance’s pillow and it’s all of a sudden too much, filling every breath and it feels suffocating. 

He can’t be Keith’s friend. 

He _can’t be Keith’s friend._

Because he likes him _so fucking much._

And suddenly he doesn’t know what to do. He thinks about Kate. He thinks about Shiro. He thinks about _Keith._

Anxiety swirls around in his head, making his vision hazy, making the rooms feel like it’s spinning. He is scared. So fucking scared. 

 

He flops down onto his bed and, although it is only 6PM, he prays for sleep to take him. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight smut alert. This chapter is a monster. enjoy, and thank you for all the wonderful comments. I can feel that this fanfic is starting to near it's end. Any ideas for new ones? Lemme know. <3

A couple days of inner turmoil pass and Lance keeps away from his friends. He doesn’t talk to Kate because he doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t talk to Hunk because Hunk will read right past his facade, and make him talk about it. He knows that Kate is upset with him, he knows he’s being a horrible boyfriend. But he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t break up with Kate, right? What they have is so…free of problems. It’s nice. It’s good.

But for the millionth time, Lance can’t help but think, _that’s_ all _it is._

It makes him feel safe, but that is all it makes him feel. He doesn’t know if that is what a long term relationship is supposed to feel like. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to feel. But the thought of leaving Kate and entering the world as a single person again terrifies him. 

It is the evening and Lance has just gotten out of the shower. His phone is ringing. It’s Hunk. 

“Hey man.”

“Hey, Lance.” Hunk’s voice is gentle. “Wanna hang out tonight? Me, you, and Kate can maybe get together, watch some movies or something.”

Lance hesitates. 

“She’s really worried about you, Lance.” 

He feels a familiar bubble of guilt in his throat and swallows thickly. “Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately, I needed some space.” 

“Yeah, I know. I told her that. She knows you well enough to know that you get like this sometimes so she wasn’t mad. She just wants to make sure you’re alright.”

Lance doesn’t answer. 

“So, how about it? Movies tonight?”

“Um…”

“You can bring Keith if you want.” Hunk says it very carefully. 

Keith? And Kate? Hanging out together? Will Lance be able to handle it? 

“Kate doesn’t like Keith too much.” Lance reasons. 

“Well yeah maybe not, but, as your girlfriend, she needs to at least try to be open to liking your friends, right?” Hunk’s tone of voice is implying a lot of things. He know’s about Lance’s crush, but he also knows that Lance probably doesn’t want it to be brought up. So he brings up Keith as innocently as possible. He describes Keith as Lance’s friend. 

“I guess so.” Lance feels uneasy.

“Alright, so 8?”

“Sure.”

“See you man.” 

Lances stomach still feels uneasy. He stares down at his screen for a good five minutes in silence. 

He takes a deep breath and texts Keith. 

 

_ _ _ 

 

 

Kate isn’t very happy when Keith walks into the apartment, but she makes eye contact with Lance and smiles anyway, bless her soul. 

Hunk’s face lights up. “Lance! Laaaannnceee!” He gets a running start and tackles Lance into a hug, almost suffocating him. Lance can hear Keith giggling behind him. 

Hunk lets go and turns to Keith. “Nice to see you again, buddy.” He extends his hand and Keith takes it, smiling shyly. 

Keith waves to Kate and she waves back, a tight smile on her face. Lance is appreciative that she is trying to be nice. Keith turns so that he is facing everyone and says, “Hey, I know it’s not really my place, but is it okay if I invite my friend Pidge? She’s alone tonight and-

“The super smart one?” Hunk interrupts excitedly. “Lance told me about her. Yes, totally! The more the merrier.” 

Keith grins so wide that two dimples appear on his cheeks, and Lance prays to all the gods in the world that he can survive the night. 

Keith is wearing another crop top, it’s burgundy this time, and now Lance _knows_ that he did it on purpose.

They all flop down on the couch and start to debate on what movie to watch. 

“Let’s do an action movie.” Lance says. 

“Fast and Furious?”

Kate snorts. 

“I’m feeling a comedy.” Hunk says. 

“21 Jump Street?” 

“Nah I dont like that one.” Hunk says, “Maybe a rom-com?”

“Mean Girls?” Lance questions. 

“Mean Girls? Seriously Lance?” Hunk looks insulted. 

“I’m okay with Mean Girls.” Keith’s voice is shy. 

Lance reels until he’s facing him. “What? Seriously?”

Keith shrugs, blushing. “It’s funny.” 

Lances heart is probably going to give out. 

“So…Mean Girls?” Kate interjects.

There is a knock on the door and Keith stands up. “That must be Pidge.” 

Pidge comes in, looking shy, but then smiling when her eyes fall on Lance. “Hey, man!” 

Lance smiles back. “Hey Pidge, nice to see you again.”

After all introductions are made, Pidge asks what they are watching.

“We’re thinking Mean Girls.” Kate says. 

“Oh my god, _Keith.”_ Pidge sounds exasperated. “Don’t subject these people to your obsession.” 

Keith’s face instantly turns a dark shade of red. “Lance is the one who suggested it! Not me!” 

Pidge turns to Lance, eyebrow raised. “Really? Hey Lance, here’s a fun fact about Keith. Mean Girls is like, his _favorite movie of all time._ ”

“So false!” Keith says defensively, but his dark blush is giving him away. 

_Dios Mio how adorable can one boy be?_

Hunk and Kate are laughing, and Keith hides his face in his hands. Lance starts to chuckle too, and then the whole group is thrown into a discussion about their favorite movies, what makes a movie “good”, and all of their guilty pleasure films. Lance is so surprised by the dynamic of the five of them. It was like they were all best friends, had known each other forever. It feels special. He doesn’t want it to end.

Hunk and Pidge click from the get-go, and they both come to the conclusion that they are long-lost fraternal twins who were separated at birth. Lance isn’t surprised. The minute he met Pidge he knew Hunk would like her. 

Even Keith and Kate are making friendly conversation. Kate looks like she is loosening up a little, and Lance’s heart warms at the idea that maybe all of this isn’t as bad as he thought. 

They end up watching Mean Girls, all piled onto Hunks tiny couch. Halfway through the movie Hunk gets up and goes to his kitchen, returning with a handle of vodka and a case of beer. “We need to not be sober now.” He states, throwing each one of them a shot glass. “Lets have some fun.”

Lance looks down at the glass, extremely hesitant. Last time he got drunk with Keith he couldn’t handle himself, and he knew something like that would happen again. 

A small part of him really doesn't want to handle himself.

They pause the movie and all move to the kitchen, filling their shot glasses and cracking open beers. After one shot as a group, toasting to new friends, Hunk’s face brightens. 

“Let’s play ‘never have I ever’!” Hunk suggests, “That always gets us drunk real quick. If you have done the thing, you take a shot. Simple enough.” 

Pidge snorts. “That’s not fair, Keith will literally die of alcohol poisoning.”   


Keith scowls. “I’ll play.” He says, defensively. 

Hunk smiles big. “I’ll go first.”

Lance glances at Keith. He looks nervous. Lance wonders how many things he’s hiding; how many things he has done that he’s never told anyone about. 

Hunk’s voice draws back his attention. “Never have I ever had sex in a moving vehicle.” 

“Moving?” Kate’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “Wouldn’t that mean that someone is driving? Like, watching you?” 

Hunk shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Keith slowly raises the shot glass to his lips, hesitantly, and then knocks it back. 

Lance is floored. “Keith? Seriously?” 

Keith smirks. “Sometimes it’s more fun when people watch.”

The whole group howls in incredulous laughter. Lance’s heart is hammering against his rib cage. 

“Alright alright my turn. Never have I ever done cocaine.” Kate says. 

They all look around questioningly at each other. Keith is standing very still.

He lifts the glass nervously to his lips, and knocks it back.   


“Keith?!” Hunk looks absolutely flabbergasted, grinning like a mad man. 

Keith giggles and then covers his mouth like he wasn’t expecting it, pupils blown out, a flush coloring his cheeks from the alcohol. 

“I think Keith is losing.” Pidge says, chuckling.

“Nonsense,” Lance says, smirking. “I think Keith is winning.” 

Keith laughs and leans into Lance’s side slightly. “Thanks man,” he mumbles, looking up at him. He is warm. Lance shivers. 

They go through a few more questions, keeping them a little tame this time so Keith doesn’t die. They ask about traveling, crazy foods, accidentally calling fat women pregnant, and going a week without showering. Slowly, they all slip into a tipsy haze, and it feels like bliss. 

“Okay, okay, me now.” Pidge says, between giggles. “Never have I ever had a sexual fantasy about a professor.” 

Keith and Lance both knock back their shots and when the glasses hit the counter, they look at each other and burst out laughing. 

“Dude, the question is, when have I _not_ had sexual fantasies about professors?” Lance says, choking on his words as he laughs.

Keith claps a hand onto his shoulder. “You’re telling me. What else is there to think about during class, the actual class?” 

Pidge rolls her eyes, ginning. “Alright, alright, break it up you guys.” 

“Okay, me now.” Hunk says, drunk excitement slurring his words. “Never have I ever sucked a guys dick.” 

Pidge laughs out loud, pointing to Keith. “He should take two for this one.” 

Keith snorts, and knocks back his shot. Kate drinks hers as well. 

“Let’s let Keith do one.” Kate says, “Or else he’s going to pass out.” She is smiling teasingly. 

Keith hums, clearly not sober anymore, looking towards the ceiling and tapping rhythmically at his chin. Lance wonders if it’s a piece he has played before on the drums. 

“Uh, never have I ever been fluent in another language?”

Lance gulps down his shot, the alcohol burning his throat, while everyone knowingly says “Laaaance”. He looks down and Keith is looking at him with a surprised smile on his face, eyebrows turned upwards. 

“ _Hablo Español chico, soy de Cuba_ , duh, _eres muy tonto._ ” Lance says in smooth Spanish, and Keith grins wildly, face turning a deeper shade of pink. 

“Okay me!” Kate practically screams. “Never have I ever gotten my belly button pierced.” 

They all laugh and look around at each other. They look at Keith, pretty much expecting him to take a shot at this point. But he doesn’t. 

Lance does. 

He brings the shot glass up to his lips, an embarrassing flush filling his face, and knocks the vodka back. 

Keith looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Everyone stares at him, waiting for an explanation. Lance laughs nervously. 

“It was a while ago! I don’t have it anymore. I was just…I thought it looked cool!” 

Everyone starts whooping with laughter, but Keith is still staring at him, lips parted in shock, face flushed. 

Lance raises an eyebrow at him, and Keith smiles, covering his mouth with his hand and shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes crinkle at the corners as the smile underneath his hand grows. 

Lance’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out and squints at the screen, the words moving. The text is from Hunk. He looks across the counter at Hunk and his friend raises an eyebrow at him. He opens the text.

**To: Lance**

_I see why you like him so much._

Lance’s chest tightens. 

After a very short amount of time, all of them have has at least four shots each (with the exception of Lance and Keith, who each had seven), and they realize that they may have gone a little too fast. They all stumble out of the kitchen, swaying back and forth, laughing hysterically as they crash onto the couch. Five fully grown bodies are a little too much for the tiny two-seater, so Kate and Pidge roll onto the floor, still giggling. 

“I haven’t been this drunk in a _while._ ” Pidge says happily.

Hunk is screaming. “I can’t believe you got your belly button pierced, Lance! How did you manage to hide that from me, you little shit?” 

They all banter back and forth for a while, the Mean Girls DVD menu replaying over and over again in the background. They are all being so loud, screaming on top of one another, getting excited about silly things. It goes on for as while. Lance rolls down onto the floor to sit next to Kate, and her head rolls onto his shoulder. He looks up and meets Keith’s eyes, but Keith looks away quickly. 

He turns to Kate, “Hey babe, ready to go to bed?” He knows that Kate typically crashes really easily after drinking a lot. 

“I wanna stay out here with you guys…” She says softly. Lance chuckles. 

“Okay, okay, we can stay out here for a bit longer.”

Lance feels guilt twisting in his gut as Kate leans into him. Keith is talking loudly with Hunk about something on the couch. Pidge is curled up on the floor, right next to Keith’s feet, and Lance assumes she’s already out cold. 

One by one, they fall asleep. First Pidge, then Kate, very reluctantly, then Hunk, whose large body stretches and fills the whole couch, knocking Keith off of it. Keith grunts and stands up, very wobbly, and hobbles over to Lance. Lance is looking down at Pidge and Kate, curled up with couch cushions on the carpet, dead asleep. 

All of a sudden, it’s completely silent. 

“Lance.” 

Keith is trying to whisper but he’s so drunk that it comes out like a hiss, or a yell. He puts his hand on his mouth and stifles a giggle. There is a dim, orange light coming from the lamp on the coffee table, and Keith’s face looks so warm. So inviting. Like melted caramel. His pupils are blown wide from the alcohol and a light sheen of sweat covers his face. Lance feels weak. 

Lance nods towards his room and Keith follows him. They walk in and shut the door behind them. Lance knows that this is a horrible idea, but he’s too fucking drunk to care. He strips down to his boxers and flops down onto the bed, not even bothering to turn the light on. When he looks up, Keith is staring down at him. 

“What’re you lookin’ at? Get in. There no room for you out there.” Lance’s words are slightly slurred but he attempts to keep his shit together. 

Keith looks hesitant, but then nods, stripping down to his boxers and slipping underneath the covers next to Lance. Their bare shoulders brush and Lance shudders ever so slightly. 

The glowing stars on Lance’s ceiling are so bright. Lance sees them swimming around in his vision and blinks hard, trying to clear the visual. It doesn’t work. 

“Fuck. I’m so drunk, Keith.”

Keith hums pleasantly. “Same.” 

“You only wore half a shirt today.” Lance says dumbly.

“Yeah, mostly jus’ to fuck with you.” Keith is smirking.

“Unfair.”

“Hey, ‘m just expressin’ myself. You’re the horny one.”

Sober Lance would have definitely tried to deny it, but drunk Lance just giggles. “Yeah, ’s my bad. Oops.”

Lance feels the bed shifting as Keith turns to face him, but he keeps his eyes focused on the moving stars. 

“Lance?”

“Hmmm?”

“You smell really nice.”

“Thanks.” He breathes. 

A silence passes and the it heavy with unspoken words. Then Lance speaks, alcohol coursing through his body. 

“Hey Keith? Wanna Cuddle?”

Keith snorts. “Cuddle?”

“Yeah, y’know, like..a drunk cuddle.” God, Lance is so fucking drunk. 

“I don’t cuddle, Lance.” Keith says. 

“Right, you just suck dicks.” He means it as an insult but Keith laughs.

“Yeah, pretty much. Also, your girlfriend is right outside.”

“Cuddling can be platonic.” Lance argues, sounding a little desperate. 

A brief silence passes. “I don’t even think I know how.” Keith whispers it drunkenly, like it’s an earth shattering secret. 

“I’ll teach you.” Lance whispers back, equally as urgent. 

“No, I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Mmm, good luck Drummer Boy.”

Lance feels two arms hesitantly wrap around his wait, so gently that he doesn’t know if they are actually real. He can feel the heat of Keith’s body getting closer to his, and his drunk brain wants _more more more_ and much faster. He lifts his arm over Keith’s body and drops it on the small of Keith’s back, pulling him in.

Like hitting a switch, Keith relaxes at the touch and he melts into Lance, tightening his grip around his waist and nuzzling his face into the smooth skin on Lance’s neck. He hears a small whine escape Keith’s throat and it sounds oddly like relief. Keith chest and stomach are pressed flush against the side of Lances body, their legs tangled slightly, and Lances arm is around the back of Keith neck. He slowly adjusts it so that he can card his hand through Keith’s hair. 

_Dios, que suave, no es justo,_ Keith’s hair is so fucking _soft_. 

When Keith speaks, the vibrations thrum though Lance’s throat and down to his chest. “I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you with a fucking _belly button ring._ ” Keith sighs, long and tired. The breath on Lances neck makes him shiver. “Fucking ring, fuckin’ Spanish. You’re killing me.” 

Lance laughs shakily. “You’re just drunk.” 

“Mmhmm.” Keith’s voice is low. Slow. “I’m very drunk. And I want to lick that belly ring, tug at it with my teeth. And I want you to talk filthy, filthy Spanish to me.” 

Lance clears his throat, heat collecting far too rapidly between his legs. “You’re kind of destroying any chance of this being platonic, Drummer Boy.” His voice is shaky, butterflies exploding in his stomach. 

“I know, I know.” Keith drawls lazily. “You’ve got Kate, you’re straight, I know.” 

“Keith-“

“Just say something in Spanish for me.” Keith says softly. 

“Uh…” Alcohol clouds his thoughts and he just says, _“Pienso que el océano es muy hermoso.”_

“Mmmm. What does that mean.” 

“I think the ocean is really beautiful.” Lance slurs lazily. 

“Me too.” Keith mumbles into his neck. “Another.”

Lance feels warm all over. “ _Cuando era pequeño, quería ser bailarina.”_

Keith’s grip tightens, his body impossibly close. He hums. “You sound so pretty.” He says softly. Then, “What does that mean?”

Lance clears his throat. “When I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina.” 

Keith laughs into Lance’s neck, low and rumbling. Lance feels electricity shoot through his body.

“A belly ring _and_ a ballerina? You sure I’m the gay one?” 

Lance swats the back of his head playfully. Keith nuzzles his face further into Lances neck. “One more?” Keith asks. 

Lance takes a deep breath. He cards his hands through Keith hair, trying and failing to quell the overwhelming heat spreading throughout his entire body. His heart is fluttering like mad, his stomach feel like it’s made of lead. Keith is so warm next to him. So inviting. Lance’s vision spins and the spicy scent of Keith’s shampoo is making him dizzy with desire. He tilts his head downwards slightly, wanting to see Keith’s face past the large, unruly mop of black hair above it. He sees rosy cheeks, black eyelashes, and the pointy tip of Keith’s delicate nose, which Lance now sees is dusted with the tiniest bit of barely-there freckles. He takes a deep breath.

“ _Quiero qeudarme contigo por toda la noche, mi bello.”_

There is an ache in his chest when the words come out of his mouth. 

Keith breathes softly. “I like that.” He says lazily, clearly nowhere near sobering up. “What does it mean?” 

Lance doesn’t answer right away, breathing evenly. He feels Keith tilt his head up to look at him. “Lance?” 

Lance knows he can lie, but he is drunk. So he doesn’t. He takes a shaky breath.

“I want to stay with you all night, my beautiful.” 

They both lay in complete silence. Lance is shocked that he actually said it out loud, and his heart his leaping into his throat. If it wasn’t for his inebriated state, he probably would start hyperventilating. He probably would pass out.

He refuses to look down at Keith. He feels an embarrassed blush settling heavily on his cheeks. _Soy estupido,_ I’m so fucking stupid, why did I—

But then Lance feels it. Keith’s lips brushing lightly against the skin just below his ear, right where his jaw ends, _his spot._ Lance’s breath hitches slightly as Keith’s mouth presses a small, open-mouthed kiss there, warm breath sending heat through his entire body. Keith's tongue then swirls a small circle onto the skin, lips closing over and sucking gently, carefully, almost shyly. 

But that’s his fucking _spot,_ and Keith knows that, and the ever-so-gentle gesture is making Lance’s insides turn to putty. He lets out an embarrassing whimper, tilting his head back slightly to give Keith more access. _Holy shit_ Keith’s lips are so soft, maybe even softer than Kate’s. He feels the lip ring ring scrape lightly against the edge of his jaw and Keith’s gloved hand moves up to cup the other side of Lances neck, pushing it down slightly against his moving mouth. This time a low moan from the back of Lance’s throat slips out before he can stop it, and he flushes, embarrassed. It is such a simple touch but enough to make him so dizzy, so light headed, so desperate for more. He is fully aware that the heat gathering between his legs is persistent, and it isn’t going to go away this time. 

He feels a terrifying storm of emotions crash over him, because if Keith keeps going, he doesn’t know if he can control himself. If Keith’s tongue keeps toying with his neck, just in that one spot, he doesn’t know if anything will be able to stop him. It feels _so fucking good,_ and Keith’s hand is so strong against his neck. He shifts his hips slightly away from Keith, his boxers all of a sudden a little too tight. 

Almost on queue, with a long exhale through his nose, Keith’s mouth detaches from Lance’s neck with a soft “pop”. He lays his head back down where it was before, face nuzzled softly below Lance’s chin. 

They both lay like that for what feels like hours. Keith’s hand that was gripping Lance’s neck falls gently onto his chest. They are both breathing unevenly, their breaths short and shaky. It takes a while for them to calm down. 

Lance’s mind is reeling but he can feel sleep starting to take him, his eyelids heavy. He hears even breathing coming from Keith in slow puffs, and he knows that Keith is probably falling asleep too. Before he completely loses consciousness, he hears Keith whisper, “G’night Lance.” 

His last thoughts as he is falling asleep go something like this;

_I am so, so, so fucked._

 

__ _ _ __

 

Lance wakes up with a splitting headache and the urge to barf. He trips out of bed and sprints towards the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and vomiting all of last nights regretful choices. 

Groaning, he rests his head onto the toilet seat.”Fuckkkk.” 

He hears a chuckle above him and looks up, the squinting as the light temporarily blinds him. When his eyes adjust, he see’s Keith smirking down at him, holding out a glass of water. “You are seriously a weak boy.” He says teasingly. “Tall, but very weak.” 

Lance frowns up at him, grabbing the glass of water out of his hand. “Thanks. But also, fuck you.” He murmurs 

“You look like _shit_.” Keith crouches down next to him, grinning. 

Lance sighs, “Is everyone still out there?”

Keith shakes his head. “Dude, it’s 2PM.” 

“W-what?” Lance shoots upwards, immediately regretting it as a pang of nausea settles deep into his stomach and he doubles over again, gagging. 

He feels Keith’s hand on his back. “Calm down man. And yeah, they were going to wait for you to wake up but then Hunk said that you usually sleep all day. So they went out for breakfast and then went home.”

“Well then why are you still here?” Lance manages to ask before pushing Keith away urgently and vomiting into the toilet again. Keith hits the wall with an “oof” hold his arm out to steady himself. 

“Hunk had to go meet with a group for an assignment,” Keith says, a little irritated that Lance pushed him. “He said that he was worried about you, because you usually have him there to nurse you through your…” Keith’s nose wrinkles and he glances at the toilet. “Your Hangover. So he asked me to stay.”

Lance groans again and flops down onto the bathroom floor, staring at the dirty ceiling tiles. His head is throbbing. “How long have you been awake? Jesus, you drank more than me.” He covers his face to stop the light from burning his eyes. 

Keith shrugs. “Woke up at eight. I don’t really get hungover.”

“Of course you don’t.” Lance mutters. Keith laughs. 

“You should brush your teeth. And shower. Like, right now.” 

“Jesus, man, you don’t hold back.”

“You smell like ass.”

Lance scowls. “Well… you smell like—“

“Don’t try.” 

“Fine.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Keith begins to walk out of the bathroom, but then turns around, smirking. “By the way, you’ve got a little…” He points to his jawline and grins, sending Lance a quick wink, before walking out the door. 

Lance scrambles up to the mirror and looks at the spot just below his ear where there is a red and purple, blooming hickey in the perfect shape of lips. Warmth swirls in the pit of his stomach and his face flushes at the memory. 

_fuk fuck fcuk fukvg fuck FUK UFKC FUCK—_

He’ll deal with it later.

He shakes himself off and hops into the show, toothbrush in hand. 

 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

 

Keith has his back towards him when he enter the kitchen, and Lance hears sizzling on the stove, the smell of bacon wafting through the air. His mouth waters and his painful empty stomach grumbles loudly. “Bacon.” Is all he says.

Keith turns around, a little surprised at Lance’s presence. “Uh, yeah, I figured you needed to eat something after all that barfing.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Lance walks up to stand next to Keith, both of them staring down at the sizzling bacon in the pan. Keith turns the stovetop off. “They’re pretty much done. A little too crispy, sorry.”

“Mmm, just how I like them.” Lance grabs one straight out of the pan. It burn his fingers slightly but he doesn’t care because he needs greasy food in him _immediately._ He takes a bite and hums, taking a step back and savoring it. Keith hops onto the counter and sits on the edge of it, legs dangling. Keith is still in his boxers, but he has his burgundy crop top on again. Lance takes another bite of bacon and stares a little too openly. He takes a few step towards Keith until he is standing between his dangling legs. 

“Hi.” He says. He doesn’t know why.

“Hi.” Keith lifts his finger to Lances chin and tilts his face upwards, admiring his work. “Damn, I haven’t left a mark that good in a while.” He giggles. He _fucking giggles._

“Well then, lucky me.” Lance means it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out earnest. He mentally slaps himself. 

“I have a turtleneck you can use.” Keith smirks.

Lance scoffs. “A turtle neck? That’s fashion suicide. I wouldn’t be caught dead in one.” 

Keith shakes his head, smiling fondly. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You say that all the time.”

“Well, it’s true!” 

“I’m unbelievable? You’re the one who has done cocaine, and fucked in a moving vehicle, _and_ sucked some random guys dick in the bathroom at the bar—!” Lance lists them off with his long fingers, eyebrow raised in a challenge. 

Keith’s face turns pink. “Oh man, you remember that?” 

“The bathroom thing?” Lance huffs nervously. “Duh, that was the first time I met you, I was all starstruck because I was obsessed with your drumming—“ 

“My what?”

“— and I really hadn’t planned on meeting you in there but hey, _así es la vida_ , that’s life.”

“You knew who I was?” Keith looks utterly shocked. 

“Um, yeah?” Lance says. “Dude, your drumming is incredible. I was floored the first time I saw you. I—“ He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, chuckling softly. “I _really_ wanted to meet you.”

Keith is just staring at him.

“What?” Lance asks, nervously. 

“You like my drumming?”

Lance looks surprised. “Hell yeah, Keith, you are incredibly talented, and also way too hot when you play, which is a little unfair.” He bites his tongue, regretting saying the last part. He lets out a shy laugh and looks down at his feet, face flushing. He is still standing between Keith open legs, with less than a foot of space separating them. 

Lances heartbeat starts to speed up as Keith looks up at him, eyes wide, and there is something in them that Lance can’t place. Suddenly Keith straightens his back, leaning forward towards Lance until there is only centimeters of space between them. Lance feels like there is a hurricane in his chest. Keith so close. _So close_ , and Lance can see the light freckles, the flecks of gray and purple in his eyes, the harsh black strokes of his eyelashes, the small red stripe decorating his lip ring, and the soft, pink skin of his lips. 

“You called me beautiful last night.” Keith says, voice low and soft. 

“Because you _are._ ” Lance breathes, finally giving in.

And that’s all it takes for Keith to lunge forward, closing the space between them with a sense of urgency that makes Lance whimper when their lips meet. Keith’s lips are so warm, so soft, and the lip ring prods deliciously against Lance’s mouth, just like Lance imagined it would feel. Hist heart is hammering in his chest. He feels like he is on fire. Kissing Keith isn’t how he imagined it would be. It’s _better._ Keith is an incredibly experienced kisser, his lips moving expertly against Lances with just the right amounts of pressure. Lance feels like he’s sinking deeper and deeper into a place that he has no business being in. 

But then Keith wraps his legs around Lance’s waist and pulls him in closer, so that their bodies are flush against each other. He can feel Keith’s heartbeat through his shirt, beating just as loud as his. Keith’s skin is warm and his hands snake up Lance’s back, slipping underneath his t-shirt. Lance shivers and then suddenly wants more, sliding his tongue across Keith’s bottom lip, tugging lightly on the lip ring with his teeth. 

Keith’s lips part and he whines, low and soft in the back of this throat, and the sound goes right to Lance’s dick. He pushes forward, eagerly swirling his tongue into Keith’s mouth. His hands fall into the mop of Keith’s hair and he digs his fingers into it, tugging slightly. Keith’s mouth falls open and his breath hitches, the small gasp is enough to make Lance grab his face and smash their lips together again. _God_ , he can’t get enough. He feels like he’s melting. There’s too much fabric between them. His head spins, and the spicy smell that is so delicious, so intriguing, so _Keith_ , fills his senses and his pulse is skyrocketing. Keith’s thighs are tight around his waist, the heat practically burning through Lances thin white undershirt.

Keith stops kissing Lance’s lips and pulls him down by the back of his neck, attaching his mouth to the hickey that he had left the night before, and his mouth closes hungrily around it, practically biting down on the bruised skin. Pain blooms from Lances neck but then Keith tongue is running over it, smooth and practiced. 

“A-ah, shit, _Dios_ , Keith—“ Lance moans, a shiver running down his spine. Keith hums into his neck and moves his mouth down, peppering light, hot, open mouth kisses all the way down to the collar of Lances shirt. “ _Keith,”_ Lance breathes. 

“ _So fucking hot_ ,” Keith says, sounding broken as he tugs Lance towards him again, their lips meeting. “wanted to make you moan like that for so fucking long” He mumbles against Lance’s lips, voice raspy. 

The tightness in Lances boxers in almost unbearable and he feels so embarrassed, because all they're doing is making out and it shouldn't effect him this much but it _does._ Keith shifts slightly so that their hips meet, and he grinds hungrily into Lance. A jolt of pleasure shoots up Lances spine and he physically trembles, suddenly overwhelmed, and drops his face to Keith’s shoulder, “A-ahh _, fuck._ ” Keith is hard too. Lance can feel him through his boxers. It’s a strange sensation. He decides he likes it. 

Keith chuckles darkly. “So sensitive.” He purrs, grinding into Lance again, this time much harder. Lance practically shouts and bites down on Keith shoulder, just at the base of his neck, which causes Keith to whimper slightly. 

They slowly find a rhythm, hips rocking against each other, lips smashed together, tongues tangling hungrily, desperately. Keith’s hands are everywhere, and Lance doesn’t hold back either, running his hands over Keith’s strong arms, muscled back, soft hair, tight abs. The air around them is hot and heavy. Lance swears that he could come just like this, with Keith kissing him, rocking against him. The thought is terrifying but it’s _so so good_ , and he want it so badly. Small moans are escaping Keith’s lips, getting lower and faster, and Lance feels like he is gasping for air, his skin on fire, covered in goosebumps, and _shit_ , he feels a familiar heat coiling at the base of his stomach—

A phone rings on the counter next to them, loud and unwelcome, and they both jump, startled by the sound. They look down at the screen and Kate’s face is smiling back up at them, the words “Babe <3 is calling…” flashing brightly on the screen. 

They stare at it, breathing heavily, for a while. Lance feels Keith’s hands slowly lower out from underneath his shirt. He panics, and looks at Keith. Keith is already looking at him, eyes wide, pupils blown out, face flushed, lips wet and bitten, chest rising and falling with heavy, labored breaths. _Maddeningly beautiful._

Lance feels a hand on his chest and then he is being pushed away, gently, and Keith is hopping off the counter. 

“Keith—“ Lane tries, but his voice cracks, not quite ready to be used yet. 

“I think I’ve, uh-“ Keith voice sounds wrecked, low and scratchy. He clears his throat and tries again. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” 

“No, please—“

“I should really go.” He walks into Lances room and quickly starts collecting his stuff, pulling his pants back on and pulling his hair up into a messy bun. Lances heart is exploding. 

Keith comes back out of the room and nods awkwardly at Lance. “Thanks for, uh…” He looks down and sighs in defeat. “I don’t know, Lance.” He says, frustrated. “I’m just, I should go. I’ll see you around, okay?” Then he his shaking his head and walking out the door. He turns around half-heartedly and spits, “You should call her back.” His voice burns like acid. And then he is gone, the door shutting behind him. 

Lance stands in the middle of his empty kitchen, heart still racing, with a heavy feeling in his stomach that aches in a new way. A way that he has never felt before. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loooooots of feelings happening in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY PEOPLE, looks like this incredible journey has come to an end!!! It had to happen sometime :(( This is the last chapter of this fanfic--I am still debating whether to add a super smutty epilogue for you all, because I just couldn't fit a fantastically detailed sex scene in this chapter, it somehow didn't make sense in my head to add it. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT AND KIND WORDS, THIS HAS BEEN SUCH A FUN AND EMOTIONAL JOURNEY FOR ME, I LOVE YOU ALL <3 On to the next one! I already have ideas... >:)

“Hunk, I fucked up. I fucked up _tremendously_.”

Lance is storming into Hunk’s tiny apartment, panicking, and starts pacing around the living room like a madman. Hunk is just standing in the kitchen, holding a spatula and wearing a “Kiss the Cook” apron, and looking shocked at Lance’s sudden appearance in his house. 

“Hi to you too, Lance.” 

Lance plops down at Hunk’s counter. “Do you have any alcohol? I need to get wasted. Actually? Lets just go out to the parking lot and you can run me over with your car. But you have to make sure to at least put me in a coma for eighty years, so that when I wake up everyone I know is dead.” 

Hunk sighs, accepting that he isn’t going to be making corned beef hash anytime soon, and slips his apron off, moving to sit next to Lance. “Always you with the drama.” He says fondly. “What the hell happened Lance?” Then his gaze falls onto Lances neck and his eyes widen. He repeats, urgently this time, “What the _hell happened_ Lance? _”_

Lance sighs shakily. “I…uh…” 

“I sure hope you have that bruise because somebody punched you in the neck.”

Lance shakes his head. “I…Keith.” Is all he says.

Hunk just stares at him, waiting for an explanation. He seems to be doing that a lot lately. 

“I kissed Keith. Well, _he_ kissed _me_. But I didn’t stop him. And I kissed back, like, a lot. I kissed back a lot. So I am officially a cheater, first of all. And Keith left in a hurry and it was super awkward after, and I think he’s mad, and the worst part of all of this is that it was so, _so fucking good_ , that I almost don’t even regret it, which makes me feel insane. I think I've lost all control hunk. I think I’m spiraling. I think there is a black hole in my soul—“

“I think you need to calm dow—“

“— _Black hole in my soul_ that is slowly sucking all of my self control out of my body and leaving me a shell of the emotionally and morally responsible man I once was. Okay, now you can talk.” 

Hunk sighs, exasperated. “You are exhausting.” Then he crosses his arms like a parent scolding their child. “The first thing you need to do is talk to Kate.” 

“But I—“

“Lance, she deserves an explanation.” Hunk says gently. “You are gone for Keith. Staying with her isn’t fair anymore. You need to do the right thing.” 

Fear starts tugging at Lance’s chest. 

“I know it’s scary.” Hunk reads his expression without hesitation. “The whole thing is a fucked up kind of scary. But you can’t keep pulling them both by the wrist and expecting it to all work out. You have to do something. Do it for yourself.” 

Lance sighs, his eyes stinging. _I’m not going to cry over this._

Hunk looks concerned. “Man, I’ve never seen you this broken up about someone.” 

Lance puts his face in his hands, eyes stinging even more. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” _Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry._

Hunks got his hand on Lances shoulder again. “You don’t have to know. Just…end things with Kate, Lance. You gotta.” He sounds sad, but firm. 

Lance nods. 

“I’m sure Keith is pretty broken up about you too.” Hunk says softly.

Lance shakes his head, face still in his hands. “Keith can get anyone he wants, I was probably just someone else. Just one of his conquests. He can probably move on in five minutes, find someone way hotter to make out with in the bathroom at the bar.” Lances is mumbling into his hands. “There’s no way he feels this shitty.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever.” The wetness in Lance’s eyes slowly starts to travel down his cheeks. _I am an idiot,_ he thinks to himself, _and overly sensitive, naive idiot._

Hunk wraps him up in his arms tightly, and Lance smashes his head into Hunk’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Lance. Really. It will be.” 

Lance sniffs. A comfortable silence passes. Lance just sits in Hunks arms, wondering what the hell he did to deserve such a good friend. 

Then he says, “Are you making corned beef hash?”

Hunk hums a laugh. “Yes, Lance.”

“Can I have some when it’s done?”

“Of course you can.”

 

___________________________________________________________________

 

It has been a week since what Lance likes to call “the incident” occurred. Over the past seven says he threw himself into his studies, practically barricading the door so that he could avoid all kinds of confrontation. He lives off of potato chips and Oreo cookies, not wanting to leave the comfort of his desk, where he could read about data collection and marketing tactics until he falls asleep. 

He still hasn’t gathered the courage to confront Kate. He has rehearsed what he is going to say a thousand times in front of his mirror. Once with a toothbrush in his mouth, once with his face covered in shaving cream, and again and again, but actually leaving his apartment to say the words out loud is a completely different story. 

He hasn’t heard from Keith since the incident, and the dull ache in his heart seems to always be there, as if it’s teasing him. There is a certain emptiness that he doesn’t feel comfortable with circling around him, like he’s not made to be laying in his bed alone. Like Keith needs to be there in order for the room to make sense again. 

And maybe he has cried into a packet of Chips Ahoy cookies at least twice this week, but nobody really needs to know that. 

It is Friday and 7PM when Lance hears a knock on his door. He gets off the couch, hesitantly, and cracks it open.

Kate is standing at his doorstep, staring at him, arms crossed. His heart falls to hit feet. 

“Kate.”

“Can I come in?” 

Lance nods and opens the door all the way, and Kate passes him and walks into the living room. The door shuts behind her and they are both awkwardly facing each other. Silence fills the air.

“I’m not an idiot, Lance.” She finally speaks, voice tired. 

“W-what? I know.” Lance is still ashamed that he wasn’t the one to confront her, and she was the one who had to show up at his door. He crosses his arms over his stomach, almost trying to hide himself. 

“I want you to like me. I want to be the kind of person that you love. But I’m not him, Lance. I can’t _be_ him.”

_Him_. 

Lance is frozen. “I—“

“You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world.” She sighs. “Nothing between us has been the same since you met him, and you can’t deny it.” 

“I don’t understa—“ 

“You look at him like the sun is shining out of his ass, Lance.” She says it gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “And _I am_ mad at you, I am, or I really wish I could be, but you’re just so dumb and so in love that I sort of just feel bad for you.” 

Silence.

She speaks again after a few moments, voice small. “I deserve someone who looks at me like that. And you don’t do that. I don’t think you ever did.” She sounds more sad then mad. 

Lance clears his throat. “I’m not in love with him.” He finally speaks, voice cracking.

“Alright.” she says, very clearly not believing him. A small smirk tugs at her lips. 

“And you do. You do deserve someone who looks at you like that.” Lance feels like he’s going to cry again, but holds his ground. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m just. I’m _so sorry_.” 

Kate sighs, looking down at her feet. “It’s okay, Lance. I don’t think either of us have been feeling this for a while now.” She hugs her arms around herself.  


Lance nods sadly. “Yeah. Yeah I guess not.” And then, “You’re— you're not mad?”

“I was.” She shrugs, but the gesture looks difficult for her to do. “I was _really mad_. I mean, you went days without talking to me. What kind of boyfriend does that?” She takes a breath. “But then, last Friday when Keith came over, I found out why. Just by looking at you two assholes.” She laughs bitterly. “A lot of things started making sense to me, and I realized that maybe you aren’t a _complete_ douche-canoe.” She looks up at him. “Maybe you’re just scared.”

Lance swallows thickly. “I- I’m not—I don’t know what to say.” 

They both stand in silence, looking down. Not really sure how to end the conversation. 

“I’m sorry, Kate.” 

Kate smiles at him. Sadly. Kindly. 

“I’m sorry too.” She lets her arms fall to her sides. “I really hope you find happiness with him, Lance.”

“I really hope the same for you.” Lance says earnestly, the words “ _with him”_ leaving a blooming heat in his chest, warming his entire body. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________ 

 

 

Lance shows up at the bar with his heart beating into his throat. 

It has been about two weeks since he and Kate broke up, and he had spent a majority of them tucked away in Hunks apartment, the words, _“you’re just so dumb and so in love that I sort of feel bad for you.”_ repeating over and over again in his head, the picture of Kate’s sad smirk etched into his brain. 

_In love._

Lance doesn’t know what it feels like to be in love, but the more he thinks about it, the more his feelings start to make sense to him. The way he feels when he looks at Keith, when he touches him, when he listens to him speak. The way he wants to know every last thing about him, and wants to learn the story behind every scar on his body and every photo in his room. It is almost like all of the butterflies, all of the frustration, all of the anger, and all of the beauty suddenly had an explanation. A name. _Love_. It made fear grip relentlessly at his heart, but it also felt warm, like he had been frozen for a long time, but is now starting to thaw, ever so slowly. 

He struggles to level his breathing as he walked up to the counter, where Shiro is jotting some notes down onto a napkin. When Shiro looks up and sees Lance, he scowls. 

“Lance.” There is venom in his voice, eyes narrowing. Lance shrinks away slightly, but keeps his ground. 

“What the hell did you do to him? I told you to be careful.” Shiro is angry. Very angry. Lance didn’t even know that Shiro was capable of being this angry. 

“I—I. Look I need to talk to him. I fucked up, I need to apologize.” Lance’s voice shakes, but he doesn’t look away from Shiro’s gaze. 

“You stay the fuck away from him.” Shiro crosses his arms. “I knew this would happen. I should have stopped this earlier.” He sounds like he his reprimanding himself, like he couldn’t be the hero this time, and it killed him. 

“Just. Please. I need to apologize. _Where is Keith_.” Lance pressed on. 

“I really just think you should leave.” 

“ _Please_ , Shiro. I never meant to hurt him. Or lead him on. Please, just tell me where he is. There’s no way he will answer my texts.”

“Maybe that’s for good reason.” 

Lance can feel his blood starting to boil, he clenches his fists against his thighs and try to remain clam, but fails pretty spectacularly. 

“Look, I’m seriously falling for him.” he snaps, suddenly very frustrated. “I’m very much falling for him. And I wasn’t ready to say it before but I am now. So let me tell him. Please. Don’t you think he deserves to know?” 

Shiro’s face softens slightly, but he is still frowning.”He deserves to know.” Shiro says slowly, hesitating for a minute. Then sighing in defeat. “It took you way too long, Lance. You’ve really broken him down. I’ve never seen him like this.” 

“I know.” Lance says. “It took me way too fucking long. But I got here, didn’t I? Now _tell me where he is._ ” Lance’s voice isn’t shaking anymore. It’s urgent. Firm. 

“He’s at his place.” Shiro says tentatively, sighing. “I can give you the address.”

“Thank you.” Lance says finally. 

Shiro grabs Lance’s wrist and jots the street and house number down onto his skin with Sharpie. Lance looks down at it, suddenly very nervous at the idea of facing Keith again. 

“Hey Lance?” 

Lance looks up at Shiro. “Yeah?” 

“I’m trusting you now. Don’t make me regret it. I may look like a good guy but I love Keith to death, and you should _not_ underestimate what I would do to someone who hurts him.”

  
“Shiro.”

“What.” 

“I won’t ever hurt him like this, ever again.” 

Shiro nods, sighing. “Okay Lance. Then, good luck.” 

Lance smiles reassuringly. “Thanks, Shiro.”

And Shiro cracks a little, a small, kind smile playing onto his lips. “Sure, Lance.”

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

 

The rusty, golden apartment number reading “10B” stares back at Lance as he stands in front of Keith’s door, petrified.

For as confident he sounded when talking to Shiro, he sure doesn’t feel the same right now. His hands are shaking tremendously. Anxious thoughts are racing through his head and his heart is fluttering at an alarmingly fast pace. He can’t bring himself to knock on the door. He isn’t ready. He isn’t ready to see Keith, to smell him, to talk to him, to breathe the same air as him. He thought he was but he isn’t. His feelings are too overwhelming. Going out for milkshakes with Kate and then asking her out didn’t feel nearly as life-or-death as this, and Lance wonders if this is what it is supposed to feel like. If this is what being in love is like. Because he honestly just feels like he’s about to die a very slow and painful death. 

But he thinks about the promise he made to Shiro, and he thinks about Keith, laying shirtless on his couch with messy hair and bloodshot eyes, puffy from crying. The idea of Keith crying at all makes him want to scream, and he can’t even begin to understand the rush of emotions surging through his gut when he thinks that he is the cause of those tears. 

_“He deserves to know.”_ Shiro had said.

And yes. Yes, Keith does deserve to know. He needs to know.

Slowly, and very hesitantly, Lance taps three soft knocks into the door with his knuckle. 

There is no movement on the other side of the door for a while, but then Lance hears some shuffling, the sound of a glass being put onto the counter, and the lock is clicking, so slowly that Lance holds his breath and waits, frozen, for the door to creak open. 

Keith has his hair up in a messy bun. He is wearing black joggers and a loose gray tank top, revealing his collarbones, arms, and the sides of his torso. His eyes aren’t bloodshot, but they look tired, and he has a crease on his cheek from having his face smushed onto a pillow. It is clear that he has just woken up from a nap. Lance’s heart stutters a little in his chest at the sight of him, so warm, so inviting, and so very _Keith_ , and his fingers burn, wanting to run across the crease mark on Keith’s cheek. When he sees Lance, his face melts with shock but then hardens, and he scowls. 

“Lance—“

“Please let me in.”

Keith sighs, sounding frustrated. “What do you want, Lance?”

“I want you to let me in.” 

Keith studies him for a moment before slowly stepping aside and opening the door all the way. 

Once they are both in the living room, Keith doesn’t waste any time with small talk before tearing into Lance. “Come by to make out with me again and then tell me you dont like boys?” His face is neutral but his eyes are seething. “Well, I’m not in the mood, so you can go find some other outlet for all of your sexual experimentation.” 

“Keith—“

“Better yet, we can just keep hooking up, because I know it’s super thrilling to cheat on your girlfriend with me.”

“ _Keith—_ ”

“Fuck you, Lance.” Keith spits. “Whatever the hell it is that you want from me, just take it. You wanna fuck me? Wanna just try it with a guy, get it out of your system? Huh? Just wanna experiment, have a grand old time? Fine, just fucking do it. Do it and then _leave me the fuck alone._ “

“Are you fucking kidding me—“

“Just take what you want and leave, stop inviting me over, stop falling asleep with me, stop speaking Spanish to me, I don’t want any of it, so just leave me alone!”

“Keith, you're a fucking _asshole_ —“ Lance shrieks, picking up a pillow from Keith’s couch and chucking it at his head. This isn’t really going how Lance thought it would, and there is something inside him that feels like it is physically breaking. He fights back the burning behind his eyes. “You are a _fucking prick_ , go play some fucking drums and stop vomiting all your inner demos all over me!” Lance is fuming, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. 

“Oh, shut the _fuck_ up, Lance,” Keith picks the pillow up off the floor and chucks it back at Lances face. Then, as he speaks again, he throws everything else on the floor in Lances direction. A shirt, a tennis ball, a bundle of socks, a comb, the TV remote. “Stop trying” _throw_ , “to play victim!” _Throw_. “You have Kate,” _Throw._ “just go be a bitch to her” _Throw,_ “and _leave me out of it._ ” 

“I don’t have Kate anymore, you asshole! I don’t have her anymore, so quit fucking bringing her up, alright?” 

Keith growls, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“We broke up, Keith! You’d actually know that if you bothered to text me back at _all.”_ He throws the TV remote back at Keith’s face and Keith shrieks, hands curling into fists at his sides and a snarl angrily twisting it’s way onto his face. 

“Alright, I’ve _had it_ , Keith.” Lance is holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re a frustrating, temperamental, manipulative and deceptive _asshole_ with a god-awful temper and a _horrible_ taste in fashion, and I swear to god, I would _hate_ you, I really would, if I didn't love you _so fucking much_.”

The silence that falls over the room is heavy and deafening. Lance tries to quell his erratic heartbeat with little success. 

“What?” Keith’s voice came so quiet that Lance thought he had imagined it. His eyes are wide.

Lance is panting, still reeling from the explosive argument they were just having. “I said…you have a horrible taste in fashion.” 

Keith just stares at him, eyes shining, lips still curved downwards in a frown. Except it’s not an angry frown anymore, just incredibly confused. Lance wants this to end, he needs to get out of here, he feels like he is going to suffocate with the way Keith is looking at him. But he can’t back out now. He already said it. He’s already in too deep. He sighs shakily, defeated.

“I think I fell for you the first day I met you.” Lance says quietly, picking at the skin around his nails and trying not to cry. “And it just took me way too long to figure it out.” 

Keith just continues staring, his cheeks dusted with a surprised flush. Lance clears his throat. 

“And I wanted to tell you. To let you know…ya know…that somebody really cares for you.” Lance takes a a wobbly breath, terrified. “Because you deserve to know. You need to know…how much you mean to me.”

Lance looks away from Keith, his gaze becoming too much, burning his skin like fire. “And I’m sorry.” He says to the floor, tears finally filling his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

Keith isn’t saying anything and Lance’s heart starts to crack under the pressure. He’s never felt this vulnerable in his life, and there are tidal waves of emotions crashing continuously into his head, his chest, his stomach, threatening to knock him over. This is so stupid. He is so stupid, coming over to Keith’s place and blubbering like an idiot about how much he loves him. He feels like a fool. 

He doesn’t move his eyes from the ground until he feels Keith’s fingers, warm and firm, grabbing his chin and tilting his head forward. He locks eyes with Keith and his breath hitches, still not used to the dark purple color swirling in Keith’s irises, even after all this fucking time. 

Keith moves his hand up to Lance’s cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that Lance wasn’t even aware had fallen. Goosebumps rise all over Lance’s neck from the simple touch, and his face flushes intensely. 

“You think my fashion sense is horrible?” Is all Keith asks, a light smile on his lips, voice hoarse from yelling. Lance stares, shocked, before barking out a teary laugh, completely stunned by the words that just came out of Keith’s mouth.

“No, Keith. No, I really don’t.” He chuckles. “The lip ring has gotta go though. Don’t like that thing at all.” His tone is teasing.

“Oh yeah?” Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Hate it. It’s the worst.” 

“Mmhmm, totally the worst.” 

“Nothing good about that thing.”

“Oh, I agree,” Keith smirks. “Completely useless.” 

“Horrible fashion decision.” 

“The shame is eating me alive.” 

“As it should be.”

“Hey Lance?” 

“Yeah?”  


“I fucking love you too.” 

And Lance is soaring, and sinking, and every other description ever used in a romance novel, and he never knew that it was possible to feel this way. To feel so helpless, so desperate, and yet so whole. Keith is grabbing his face before he realizes what is happening and his heart is going to burst. Their lips meet and Lance melts, gathering Keith in his arms and holding him tightly like he has wanted to do for so, _so long_. 

There is nothing gentle about this kiss. It is hungry, rough, and breathless. Lance is digging his hands into Keith’s hair and Keith is shoving his hands up Lance’s shirt, tugging, gasping, desperately trying to absorb each other. They clumsily move over to the couch, falling onto it with a loud thud, but their mouths stay connected. Keith is hovering above Lance, licking into his mouth, running his hands all over Lance’s body, and Lance is shivering, not able to wait anymore, pulling Keith down on top of him and feeling a million sparks ignite all over his skin when Keith’s body aligns with his. 

Keith pulls back for a moment, looking down at Lance. He is grinning wildly, with flushed cheeks, tangled hair, and wide, beautiful eyes. His lip rings is a smudge of black on his smooth skin, and he lets out a soft laugh as his eyes drink in Lance’s face. 

Lance has a weightlessness in his chest that makes him feel like he can breathe for the first time, in a whole new way, like he is floating just high enough to see the world through completely different eyes. _This_ , he thinks to himself. 

 

_This is what it’s supposed to feel like._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEEEEWWWW what a rollercoaster. THANK YOU AGAIN, love you all, look how happy they are. told you everything would work out :p Thanks so much for reading, for the fan art, for everything. im so appreciative! <3


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay here is some closure and some smut for you lovelies :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and BAM here is a much requested epilogue involving mostly smut and some relationship fluff. I hope you guys enjoy! As always thank you so much for all the support and love that came from this fic! I appreciate every comment and every kudos so so much! love.
> 
> Also check out my new klance fic, something just like this, it is a camp counselor AU! love.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716489/chapters/23742501

As Lance watches Keith drum, his heart swells in his chest. It feels just like the first time.

How this boy manages to take his breath away every single time is beyond him. He is sitting at the bar, his vodka cranberry melting in his hand, and the warmth he is feeling in his chest has absolutely nothing to do with the portion of it that he drank. 

Shiro is standing at the bar, sending a knowing smile at Lance, but Lance is too busy absorbing the image of Keith on stage to take any notice. 

It has only been a month since Lance came to his senses and kissed Keith, and in those four short weeks he has felt more alive than he had for such a long time. He could feel his heart beating again. He saw beauty in his work again. His rut was officially over.

Keith is always ready with a sassy remark, always keeps him on his toes, makes his vision spin and his heart race. Keith is talented, and supportive, and beautiful, and every conversation they have heals a part of Lance that he didn’t even know was broken. 

It is terrifying. It is reckless. But it is so, _so good_. 

When the song ends, the lights go out and Lance hops off his barstool, running in the general direction of the stage. Keith is already standing there, in his baggy black t-shirt and his dark jeans, drumsticks sticking out from his waistband. He shoots Lance a goofy grin as he approaches, eyes shining. “How’d I do?” 

“You were so amazing.” Lance says, and he leans over to catch Keith’s lips with his own. Keith chuckles against his lips and wraps his arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Shiro is suddenly standing behind them, and he clears his throat. They break apart to look at him. 

“I’m going to close up early tonight.” Shiro says, “Don’t worry about cleaning up tonight, Keith. You guys can go.” 

Lance starts saying “Are you sure—?“ but Keith just talks over him “Okay!” And then he is pulling Lance out into the cold air by his sleeve. 

They start walking in the direction of Keith’s apartment, hands brushing together. Lance looks down at Keith and Keith is already looking at him. “Wanna get sandwiches?” He says. 

Lance laughs. “Dude, it’s almost midnight. Let’s just watch a movie or something.” 

“Oh okay, I totally have an idea for—“

“I’m not watching the Mars documentary, Keith.”

“But there could be alien—“

“There are no aliens on Mars, Keith.”

“You don’t know that!” 

“Neither do the people who made that documentary!” Lance exclaims.

“Mars is literally the coolest planet ever and you are a disgrace.” Keith says, annoyed. 

“Mmhm, totally, you’re totally right. Very correct.” 

“Fuck off” Keith says, pushing his shoulder lightly, but he is smiling. 

Lance chuckles and wraps Keith up in his arms. The shorter boy grumbles in protest and swats at him, but he just clings on tighter. After a while, Keith just gives in and returns the hug. Lance huffs a satisfied laugh. 

The apartment is dark when they arrive. Lance shrugs off his jacket and flops down onto his familiar spot on the couch. Keith turns the light on, but instead of heading to the couch, he is running down the narrow hallway, to the small closet on the left where…where… 

Lance shoots up from the couch, “You’d better not be getting that documentary Keith! I swear to god!”

He hears a loud, raspy laugh. “I’m doing no such thing!” 

“Keith! _Keith!_ ”

“What are you saying? Sorry, can’t hear you!” 

Lance starts bounding down the hall, catching sight of Keith leaving the closet with a DVD in his hand. He grins and runs towards Keith, slamming into him, catching him off guard, and plucking the DVD from him. 

“Hey! Come on, Lance!” 

“We’re not watching this!” Lance holds it over his head, running back to the living room, he hears Keith following him. He turns around to face Keith, very thankful for the height he has over his boyfriend, and holds the DVD up even higher. 

What he doesn’t expect is for Keith to grin wickedly at him and then pounce off of the ground, gaining so much height that he grabs the DVD from Lance’s outstretched hand and then falls forward, slamming into the wall. Lance barks out a laugh and Keith swivels around, an embarrassed flush on his face. Before he can move from where he is against the wall, Lance is there, in front of him, so close that he can see the small freckles on Keith’s nose.

“Hi.” Lance says softly. 

“Hi.” Keith smiles. 

They stare at each other for a moment. Then,

“Give me the DVD, Keith.” 

“Nope.”

“ _Keith_.”

A smirk grows on Keith’s face. “Nah.” 

“The DVD.” 

Keith breath puffs against his Lance’s face. “No.” 

Lance holds his hand out in front of him, the tips of his fingers brushing against Keith’s chest. Keith shakes his head, smirking even further. 

The feeling in the air shifts. Keith’s eyes darken. Lance feels his face start to burn. His heart flutters. 

“Give me the DVD.” He says one last time, voice barely above a whisper.

“Make me.” Keith replies. And that is all it takes. 

Lance dips down, past Keith’s lips, past Keith’s chest, and without any warning, plants his mouth onto the skin just above Keith’s hip bone, biting down and sucking the skin forcefully between his teeth. _Keith’s Spot_. The force of the movement slams Keith’s waist against the wall. 

“Jesus _shit_ —Lance—“ Keith chokes out the words, the DVD clatters to the floor. Lance hums against his skin and presses his mouth onto the red spot he just created, swirling his tongue onto the soft skin. Keith lets out a long, shaky breath, obviously flustered by the sudden contact. “You asshole.” He whispers, but he is smirking down at the top of Lance’s head. 

Lance noses along Keith’s waistline, dragging his lips and tongue along the tight skin below Keith’s belly button, until he reaches Keith’s opposite hip, where he starts sucking a new mark to contrast with the creamy ivory underneath his lips. Keith’s breath hitches and he whines, and his hips jump forward slightly. Lance want to hears that sound again and again, so he sucks harder, and lets the small “a-ah…“ that falls from Keith’s lips travel through his body like a wave of burning, unforgiving heat. 

Slowly, steadily, he rises until he is standing again, and presses in closer to Keith, their noses brushing as Lance bumps forward, panting slightly. Their warm breath is mingling together and Lance locks his eyes onto Keith’s, who’s pupils are blown out, with a dazed expression on his face. The air around them is hot and thick. Keith’s eyes flutter closed. 

“Just fucking _kiss me_ Lance I swear to—“

Lance surges forward, connecting their lips in a hungry kiss. Every time he kisses Keith it feels like a hurricane in his lungs. He hums into Keith’s mouth and stumbles forward so that they land on the couch. Keith is jamming his hands into Lance’s hair and pulling him impossibly closer, breathing him in. Lance welcomes the spicy scent of Keith’s shampoo, so familiar to him now, and takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it fill his head and make him dizzy. He doesn’t even hesitate before sliding his hand up Keith’s shirt, feeling the smooth abs chest muscles underneath his fingertips. He feels Keith shudder slightly underneath him and swipes his thumb over Keith’s nipple. Keith makes a small whining sound and pushes his tongue between Lance’s lips, deepening the kiss. Lance licks over his lip ring, tugging at it with his teeth, causing the neediest sounds to come from the back of Keith’s throat. 

Lance just can’t believe that kissing can be this good. He can’t believe that it can make him this breathless, this desperate, and this _turned on_. He can feel every inch of Keith’s body against his and the heat pooling in between his legs is gathering much quicker than he is used to. It makes a small shiver run down his spine. 

Keith grinds his hips upwards so that they press against Lance’s, and Lance has to break away from Keith’s lips for a moment as a moan slips out of his mouth. “Fuck, _Keith_ —“

“I’m gonna make you come tonight.” Keith rasps against his cheek, voice low and determined. “You’re gonna come for me tonight, alright?” 

“I— _fuck_ —“

Keith grinds into him again, this time letting out a shaky whimper himself, and Lance’s heart slams against his ribcage. He dips down and kisses Keith again, pressing down roughly with his hips, and they both moan at the same time when their hips meet. 

They slowly start rocking their hips together, the friction making them shudder and gasp into each other, a certain, familiar heat starting to build between them. Lance can feel Keith, hard through his pants, and the heat between his legs is becoming painful. He lets out a whine and smashes his face into Keith’s neck, nibbling at the skin there. He moves his shaking hands from underneath Keith’s shirt and start desperately tugging at the zipper on Keith’s jeans. 

“Keith,” He squeaks, cringing at how pathetic he sounds. “Keith, _please_ , we need to—“

But Keith already knows, and starts peeling off his clothes with a practiced grace that just makes Lance even more eager. Lance slips out of his pants and practically tears off his shirt, and then they meet in the middle again, the lack of fabric making the friction even closer, the delicious drag of skin-against-skin driving Lance absolutely _mad_. 

“A-ahh _shit._ ” It is almost too much for Lance to handle, and Keith sees this as an opportunity to flip them around, so that he is on top. Keith straddles Lance’s waist, wrapping his legs around Lance’s hips, and grinds into him. Much harder this time, with purpose, and he doesn’t stop. He starts to build a rhythm, pushing, and pushing, and—

Lance lets out a choked breath, “F-fuck, _Keith_ , I-I—” A moan breaks past his lips. He has never felt anything like this before, and he knows he is going to come so much faster than he planned to, but Keith is so _fucking hot_ and it feels so damn good, and the feeling of Keith’s hard cock rubbing against his is making his hips jerk and shift uncontrollably with every thrust. More, more, _more—_

_“Keith_ —“

“You gonna come, Lance?” Keith's voice is thick. Rough. 

Lance’s whole body is shaking and all he can do is whimper in reply.

“Lance,” Keith is breathing heavily, grinding down forcefully. “tell me you’re going to come.”

“I-I, _fuck_ Keith please don’t stop, I’m _so close_ —“

And the second he says it, Keith stops. 

Lance is panting, staring wide eyed at the boy on top of him. His legs are still shaking, and his chest is heaving, dripping with sweat. Keith is looking down at him with a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. Both of their stomachs are wet with pre-come, and Lance’s dick is throbbing. 

“Why the _fuck_ did you stop?” Lance’s voice sounds broken. 

“Because I wanna do _this_.” Keith says darkly. He shuffles downwards, and before Lance even knows what is happening, Keith wraps his mouth around the head of Lance’s cock with an obscene slurping sound and Lance’s whole body jerks upwards at the contact. 

“ _Dios_ , shit, f-fuck—“

Keith’s _mouth_ is on his _dick_.

Holy _fucking shit_.

Lance knows that he isn’t going to last much longer, but he doesn’t want it to end. He can feel that fucking lip ring scraping along the bottom of his member as Keith bobs his head forward, slurping, sucking, licking. Lance’s hips are already shaking violently and he feels like he is about to have a heart attack when he looks down at Keith, who is peeking up at him through black, hooded lashes, cheeks hollowed and flushed as he works Lance’s cock. Keith has already started stroking his own dick, breathing faster through his nose with every flick of his wrist. 

“You are so. _fucking. hot._ ” Lance bites out weakly, barely able to speak without his voice cracking. Keith hums around his dick and the vibrations around him are so close to pushing him over the edge. He gasps, a filthy moan escaping from his throat. He digs his fingers into Keith’s soft hair, urging him forward, and he’s so fucking close but he doesn’t want to tell Keith this time. Keith's hand is still working himself, getting sloppier, and Lance knows it’s because Keith is getting closer to coming undone. _Dios_ , this boy knows how to use his mouth. Every movement goes deeper, tighter, faster, wetter. He feels the tip of his dick nudge the back of Keith’s throat and he almost shouts at the sensation, biting down on his lip and whimpering pathetically instead. _Shit_ , just a few more, _holy shi_ —

When he comes it is all-encompassing. His vision blurs and heat bursts all throughout his body, his legs and hips shivering uncontrollably from the sensation of it. he feels Keith’s mouth loosen around him for a moment, and with a strangled moan he knows that Keith is coming too. For a moment, he feels dizzy and shuts his eyes, glorifying in the feeling of Keith cleaning him up with his tongue, swallowing the remaining come. Then, Keith is crawling back up his body and flopping down on top of him, breathing heavily, skin slick with sweat. Lance tries his best to calm the fuck down, but his heart is still stuttering in hist chest and he can feel Keith’s pounding rapidly against him too. They both lay panting for a moment, coming down from their highs. 

“You taste so good.” Keith finally says, voice absolutely wrecked. “Wanted to do that since the day I met you.” 

“Fuck, _Keith_ , you are going to be the death of me.” Lance’s voice doesn’t really sound much better. “Like, you are going to kill me.” 

Keith laughs. “If that’s what death will feel like then honestly I’m not sure I give a fuck.”

This makes Lance laugh as well, the sound is shaky and breathless. “I think that was the best blowjob I have ever gotten in my life.” 

“I would say that I don’t believe you, but I know how good I am.” Lance hears the smirk in Keith’s voice and rolls his eyes. 

“I hate you.” He says, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah. So how do those sandwiches sound _now_?” Keith picks his head up and looks at Lance with childish anticipation. 

“No sandwiches, Keith.”

“But I’m fucking starving.” 

“Let’s just go to sleep?” 

Keith frowns. “If we aren’t going to eat, then can we _at least_ watch the documentary about Mars?” 

Lance blinks at him. Once. Twice. “Did you literally just use a blow job to get me to watch an alien documentary with you?” He asks incredulously. 

Keith just shrugs. “Well, I don’t know, did it work?”

Lance curls Keith into a bone-crushing hug, not really sure what else to do with the multitude of emotions swirling around in his chest. This is something that he is realizing has happened far too many time since he met Keith, and it is a wonderful, wonderful feeling.

Keith curls back into him and giggles into his neck. 

 

They end up watching the Mars documentary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my new klance fic, it is a camp counselor AU! love.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716489/chapters/23742501


	10. From The Drummer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drummer Boy from Keith's POV (First Two Chapters)  
> WARNINGS: KEITH IS A HO, AND HE ISN'T GRACEFUL ABOUT IT  
> //smut  
> //the sexual assault scene in the second chapter :/  
> //drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of people requested Drummer Boy from Keith's POV so I pretty much barfed this out today as a thank you for 1k followers on tumblr! For those of you who have been with me since this fic, wow. you are the wind beneath my wings. 
> 
> Its only the first two chapters, and I'm honestly not sure if I will write more! I just wanted to do something small for you guys!
> 
> this was one of the hardest things i've ever had to do so I hope it doesn't suck. getting the dialogue to line up and everything, it's like writing in reverse. great writing exercise, but also incredibly difficult! 
> 
> love you all! thanks again! <3

Keith sighs contentedly as Chad’s hands fiddle with the button on his jeans. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, quick and dirty in a bathroom stall. Honestly, there’s no harm in it. Being in a band with a couple of really attractive guys just makes for more fun between rehearsals, and Chad is really good with his mouth. His hands are calloused from playing guitar and he always smells like cigarettes. There is small part of Keith that rejects the scent, but most of him loves it. He gets satisfaction from Chad's raspy breath and the way he mumbles his name. It makes him feel sexy. It makes the sex just that much more fun. 

Today, Chad is sober, which is unlike him. But Keith doesn’t care. The sensations are still the same. They go through the motions, easily and practiced. It’s been about a year, at this point, that they’ve been in this band together. Keith personally thinks that Hugh, the singer, is much better with his fingers. But Chad is better at everything else. 

Opting to try something a little different from their usual routine, Keith drops to his knees and starts unzipping his pants. He hasn’t given a blowjob in a while. He got used to just getting them. But maybe today he’ll give back. Step up to the plate. Be a stand-up guy. He really wants to, anyway. 

When Keith had first joined the band, he wasn’t in the best place. Dropping out of college when you’re a junior doesn’t really make the people in your life happy, especially when you never even gave them a reason for doing it. Keith just really and truly hated school. He hated waking up in the morning and going to a class where he didn’t care about what he was learning, or who he talked to, or what grades he got. He always did well, but what’s the point if you don’t even like it? 

Shiro, his older brother, ended up being the only person who understood his decision. Even then, it took a lot of convincing. The fact that he was able to find a band who wanted him, especially in such a short period of time, was absolutely incredible. He really didn’t feel like he deserved it. Maybe he started sleeping with his bandmates to try and compensate for that. Maybe, he just really wanted them to like him. There are tons of reasons for why he could’ve started. 

Maybe it was just cause he  _ could _ . Maybe he just wanted to. 

Keith was fifteen years old when he realized that people treated him differently because he was “attractive." It’s not as nice of a discovery as it sounds. He was called “pretty boy” on multiple occasions. Girls hung off of him, watching his every move and pestering him all the time, even when he insisted he wasn’t interested. He came out as gay in his junior year and everyone acted like he had personally offended them. As if his decision was made with all of them in mind, which it wasn’t. He would develop crushes on boys who would be too ashamed to speak to him in public, but would pull him into the empty locker room and pin him against the wall because “you’re too gorgeous for me to resist you, I can’t take it anymore. Will you stop torturing me?” 

It didn’t take long for Keith to realize the effect he had on people. It took even less time, and significantly more heartbreaks, for him to start using it to his advantage. He wore skimpy clothes to school; crop tops and tight jeans. If he was a “Pretty Boy” then he was going to milk it. He got his lip pierced, and to this day he doesn’t even know if it was to lure people in or scare them away. The same guys who pretended to hate him in the hallways were the ones he silently picked on the most. He would slowly drive them crazy. He’d leave lingering touches on their arms in the hall. Lean in very close to them to pick something up from across their desk. Tie his hair up and smirk at them, small enough that nobody else would notice. It was twisted. It was stupid, really. Deep down, he knew it was. 

He always silently thought that one of them would stick around after they hooked up in the janitor's closet. But nobody ever did. 

Whatever. That was a long time ago. He’s in a band now. He’s got good friends now. Things are different. 

Keith has been drumming for years. It started as an outlet for his temper, which was god-awful in grade school, and he never quite gave up on it. He loves very few things in his life, but he’s gotta say that drumming is one of them. It makes him feel alive in a way that nothing else ever really has. Even having sex doesn’t make him feel quite as animated, or happy, or free. Nobody really understands it as well as he does, but he doesn’t mind. That means it’s all his, and nobody can take it away from him. 

Chad’s long sigh snaps him out of his thoughts. He can tell Chad is getting closer. He's a very vocal person, especially when it comes to sex. “Oh my god...” He says. Then he repeats it, over and over and over again. 

Keith tries to focus on what he’s doing. He tends to get bored after he’s been sucking someone off for a while. It’s actually, genuinely, pretty boring. Really. He wishes there was a movie on or something. Maybe the news. 

The restroom door opens. Chad seems too out of his mind to notice and Keith doesn’t really give a shit. He just keeps doing what he’s doing. 

The footsteps outside of the stall door stop. Keith finds himself slightly distracted. Is there a person… _ listening _ to them? For real? 

He quickly finishes Chad off, standing up shakily and turning his head to the side, examining the pair of feet on the other side of the stall door. Whoever this person is, they’ve been standing there for a while. Keith doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or creeped out. Also, the ratty, gray tennis shoes that Keith is looking at now leave much to be desired. 

Taking a short breath, Keith pushes past the stall door without even looking back at Chad. He comes face to face with two round, shocked, blue eyes. 

Keith blinks, trying to keep a straight expression. The stranger's face comes into focus, slowly, and Keith raises his eyebrow a hair. There is a boy staring at him with what appears to be horror, mixed with a little something else, gracing all of his features. And he’s a _nice_ _looking_ guy. Hot; but in a boyish kind of way. He’s got brown, ruffled hair and a loose green jacket on. On his narrow, tan face is a blush so alarmingly red that Keith actually starts to feel himself smirking. Oh man, this guy was _listening_. For _real_. He might’ve even been _into_ it. Keith could probably take him into the stall right now if he wanted to. It all over the boy’s face. He _wants_ it. 

Instead, Keith chooses to do what he always does; tease. Mainly because he’s tired and doesn’t think he can handle a second round. He notices the boy’s blue, blue eyes trained intensely on his lips. Smirking, he lifts a gloved hand to his face, wiping his mouth in an obscene way that he tends to do after he gives a blowjob. He finds immense satisfaction in the way the boy’s face crumbles, ever so slightly. 

“Hope you enjoyed the show.” He says in a low voice, and the boy in front of him visibly swallows, looking terrified. With another smirk, for good measure, Keith pushes out of the bathroom door and doesn’t look back. 

Was it a mean thing to do? Maybe. That boy was probably deeply disturbed.

But if he ever sees that guy again, he’s got it in the bag. 

 

///////

 

Keith trudges into his apartment and falls face first onto the sofa. He’s fucking exhausted. He’s grateful that Shiro managed to get him a part time job at the bar, serving food and cleaning tables, but it really wipes him out. He gets home at three AM and sleeps until three PM the next day. It’s a good thing his sleep schedule is so fucked up, or else he never would’ve gotten to know his neighbor.

Pidge is a college student who lives in the apartment right next to Keith’s. He sometimes feels bad, because she is the one pure and genuine friend he has in his life and he constantly brings guys home, which can be…disruptive. Especially since she’s one of the smartest people, literally, on planet earth, and spends most of her time studying. Night owls tend to do everything together, apparently. 

For some reason, she likes Keith despite his sexual endeavors. Keith doesn’t really know why. He’s not sure he has too much to offer. But when they hang out, it’s different. She actually talks to him about things other than drumming, and drinking, and whatever else he spends his day doing. He’s always appreciated that about her. 

Plus, her taste in documentaries is just as shitty as his. But that’s a secret he will take to his grave. 

He hears a knock on the door and muffles “Come in!” into his couch cushions. The door opens and he hears Pidge laughing. 

“Oh man, you look stellar.” She says. “Rough day?” 

“Not really.” Keith replies, face still smushed into the couch. “Just tiring.” He turns his head to the side. “Did you bring the movie?” 

“I brought three.” She says, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “You’re going to have to help me choose.” 

“Let’s hear them.” 

Pidge clears her throat in preparation, which makes Keith grin. “So, the first one is about the obesity crisis in america—“

“Pass.” 

Pidge pushes her large, round glasses up her nose. “What? Why?”

“We literally just watched Food. Inc. yesterday. Aren’t you a little tired of being terrified of eating?”

Pidge sighs. “Yeah…that one was pretty terrifying.” 

Keith chuckles. “What else?” 

“I’ve got one on alien life forms during the—“

“Yes!” Keith sits up. “Let’s do that one.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “Do you care about anything other than aliens and penises?” 

Keith shrugs. “Does it matter? Come  _ on _ , put it on. I’ll go make popcorn.”

“You’re a  _ dork _ !” Pidge shouts to his back as he walks into the kitchen. 

“You’re not getting popcorn!” Keith shouts back, smiling and shaking his head. 

The best thing about being friends with Pidge is that he knows Pidge isn’t trying to get anything else out of it. She’s not trying to sleep with him. Or tell her friends that she hooked up with him. She’s not interested in him for his looks. She just likes spending time with him. 

And  _ fuck _ is that a relief. 

 

/////

 

Keith really doesn’t feel like being in band practice today. Hugh just keeps talking about how much he wants to get drunk and Chad is trying to get with this girl in Florida and keeps looking down at his phone every five seconds to see if she replied to his text. Keith doesn’t even understand why. She’s in fucking  _ Florida _ . You can’t fuck someone when they’re four states away. 

It’s none of his business though, really. And he knows from experience that trying to have a conversation with either of these guys about relationships is probably the worst decision ever, so instead he focuses on solving the other problem; getting Hugh to shut up so they can start rehearsing. 

“If I get you some alcohol will you stop complaining?” He asks, already getting up. 

Hugh grins at him. “Oh, thank god, man. Yes, please.” He holds out an empty handle of vodka to Keith, who takes it from him. “Get one this size.” He says. “Actually, can I have a vodka soda?"

Keith rolls his eyes and turns around towards the door that leads to the bar. These guys aren’t exactly the best influences, but they make good music. And that’s really all he cares about. 

Shiro should be bartending right now so he can probably get a decent sized handle of vodka. He holds the empty one in his hands and studies it as he pushes through the double doors. Shiro is standing behind the bar, pouring a drink for someone. Keith walks up behind him. 

“Hey Shiro could you fix up some vodka sodas for me and the guys? They won’t stop complaining about how sober they are.” He says, a little begrudgingly. Shiro turns around and gives him an exasperated look before reluctantly searching for the handle of vodka. 

Keith is about to turn back into the kitchen when something makes him pause. Sitting at the bar, with a tiny, pink drink in from of him, is the guy.  _ Bathroom _ guy. Tall, tan, and blushing bathroom guy. 

Keith is walking over to him without even thinking about it. This is going to be a piece of cake. 

“Oh hey.” He says, in his trademark flirting voice. He lifts an eyebrow. “Back so soon?” 

Just as expected, the boy looks at him with a petrified expression. Jeez, does this guy even know how to talk? Maybe he doesn’t speak english. Keith leans over a fraction of the way. He can definitely get a better look at this guy now that the situation is different. There are details that Keith didn’t quite pick up on before. A narrow, swooping, button nose. Delicate lips. High cheekbones. Small, golden freckles dusted across his cheeks. And those blue, blue eyes. Keith tilts his head to the side, smirking at the boy’s speechlessness. “Didn’t think I’d see your pretty face around here for a while.” He says, in regards to the bathroom incident. 

The boy finally speaks. His voice comes out strained, clearly impacted by what Keith just said. “I—uh…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

Keith is enjoying this way too much. 

Then, very suddenly, as if he is snapping out of a trance, the boy shakes his head and leans forward onto the bar, raising a snarky eyebrow. “And yet, here I am. So I guess you were wrong.” 

Keith actually leans back slightly, shocked by the sudden change in character. He  _ spoke _ . The boy finally spoke, and not only that. He actually returned Keith’s sassy comeback. Just handed it right back to him on a silver platter. 

Keith is officially interested. He goes for a smirk, but it feels soft on his lips. 

“Guess I was.” He says, trying not to sound too pleased. “What are you drinking?” 

The boy looks down at his fruity excuse for an alcoholic beverage. “Vodka cranberry.” 

_ Cute _ , Keith thinks, laughing. “Vodka cranberry? What are you, a fifteen year old?” He doesn’t really know why he says it. It deviates a little from his usual flirting tactics. But this boy has a kind face. Keith feels incredibly intrigued. He leans forward on the bar, nearly closing the distance between them, and watches the boy’s face melt into nerves again for a split second.  _ God _ , could this boy be any more  _ obvious _ about what he wants? “Might as well just order a Shirley Temple and save yourself the calories, little girl.” He says, glancing down at the drink and then back up. 

He says it flirtatiously. Teasingly. Confidently. 

The reply that he gets is unexpected. The boy looks at Keith with pure disgust for a moment, nostrils flaring. “ _ Excuse _ me? This drink is literally fifty percent alcohol!” He shove the tiny glass in Keith’s face. "There are at least two shots in this little cup!” 

Keith bites his lip to keep from giggling and losing his cool composure. Is this guy for real?  _ Too cute. _ “And do you know what the other fifty percent is?” 

“Whatever, man.” A small blush dusts the strangers cheeks. That’s what makes Keith finally grin for real, not able to contain it any longer. 

“Cranberry.” He says, trying not to laugh. “The other half is  _ cranberry _ .” 

“Oh shut it, drummer boy!” The boy snaps. Keith blinks, in pure shock for a moment. This guy...knows him? He’s seen him play before? 

The nickname is oddly flattering. “Drummer boy?” He asks, trying to cover the pure curiosity in his voice with a confident smirk. 

The boy blushes more. “What?” He snaps defensively. “Yes, you play the drums. It’s a pretty simple concept.” His sudden anger is absolutely adorable. Keith is torn between kissing him and letting him off the hook— he’s way too innocent to get tangled up in the dirty chaos Keith would bring to him. 

Noticing that Keith hasn’t replied yet, the boy shifts a little in his seat. He scoffs. “Only because I don’t know you’re real name.” He says.

Keith cocks his head to the side, considering. This boy is getting cuter every second. And, despite his awkwardness, he’s  _ clearly _ interested. It’s cute how much he’s trying. Keith decides to go for it. “It’s Keith.” He says. 

The stranger blinks slowly at him. “Keith.” he repeats softly. Keith feels smug. His name sounds good on those lips. 

“And you are?” He asks. 

“Uh…” The boy continues blinking at him, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Lance?” 

Unique. Pretty name. He can work with that. “Lance? You sure about that? You don’t sound too sure.” 

A nod. “I’m sure.” Jeez, where did this guy come from? Keith trails his eyes over Lance’s face, very pleased with what he sees. This is going to be a fun one, that’s for sure. His gaze lingers on Lance’s lips, which look pure. Sweet. 

“Well then, nice to formally meet you, Lance.” He says, meaning it. 

 

//////

 

The next week goes by in a slow and painful drag of cleaning tables and serving drinks to assholes. The only highlight is the drumming Keith got to do, every day with his bandmates. They have good weeks and bad weeks. Last week was horrible, mostly because they were all drunk the whole time. But this week they actually wrote a new song, and got a lot done; so despite his job being terribly boring, it does have it’s perks. 

He’s picked up a few more shifts as a waiter because he’s almost got enough money saved up to buy a new pair of drumsticks. He’s so close, just needs to earn a bit more. Covering more tables really isn’t his favorite thing to do, especially when they are those long, rectangular ones on the far end of the bar where all the frat guys and douchebags usually sit. But the pair of sticks he has his eye on have a pearl and ivory encrusted handle, so…he’s willing to make a few sacrifices. 

"Hey, Keith! Glad you could come in early tonight. The bar is so busy.” Shiro says, handing Keith his notepad and a small, black apron. “A few people just sat at table four, next to the speakers. I gotta stay and man the bar.” He gives Keith a sheepish look. “I know you hate doing that, but…do you mind?” 

Keith shrugs. “I got it.” he says happily. Shiro works hard. He’s not here to make things any harder for him. 

Shiro gives him a thankful look. “Cool, thanks.”

Keith sighs a little and walks towards the tables. Which one is table four, again? He hasn’t done this in a while. He looks down at the notepad with the badly drawn map of the bar and then looks back up, surveying his surroundings. 

Oh, there it is. Table four. 

Keith approaches the table, not even bothering to look at the sorry-ass college students who are seated there. “Hi, what can I get for you tonight?” He asks, emotionlessly. 

And that’s when he sees him. It’s Lance. The same Lance that was sitting at the bar a week ago, staring up at him with his stupidly blue eyes and an adorable, shocked look on his face. Keith stares back at him, feeling incredibly pleased with himself. Lance’s eyes are trailing down his body, so  _ obviously _ checking him out. It’s almost laughable. 

The girl at the table taps him arm slightly. “I need you to write this down because it’s really important. We want the lava cake, but sometimes the lava cake comes out way too runny. Like, too thin and watery. Just try to make sure the chef doesn’t overheat it because that really ruins it. I won’t pay for it if it’s not creamy enough.” 

Keith raises an eyebrow at her, incredibly unamused. Wow, that’s kind of annoying. Are these the people Lance hangs out with? He sends the girl a sugary sweet smile, trying to edge off his growing irritation. “Unfortunately I can’t control how much talent our shitty chef has.” He spits, passive aggressively. “but I’ll give him this note so you think I tried.” 

The girl looks absolutely horrified by Keith’s rude response, and he has the decency to feel guilty for a moment, but it goes away instantaneously because he hears a bubbly laugh coming from the other side of the table and his eyes land on Lance; who is covering his mouth with a hand and trying to suppress his giggling. Keith feels his cheeks warm and he smirks at him. He realizes that he never saw Lance grin like that before. It’s pretty. It’s happy. It makes Keith want to grin too. Weirdly. Stupidly. 

The boy sitting next to Lance; a broad shouldered guy with dark skin and round, happy eyes, gasps at him. “Wait, you’re that amazing drummer kid! Dude, your skills are incredible! Holy shit!” 

At this, Keith loses almost all of his footing. He feels the blush coloring his cheeks, hot and red. His heart leaps, surprised by the unexpected kind words. They…really like this drumming? They’ve watched him? He’s not used to people complimenting him. “Oh, uh…” What does he even say to that? “Yeah, that’s me?” 

“Can’t take a compliment, can you, Keith?” Lance says snarkily, studying him with interested eyes. Keith blushes even further at that, scowling slightly to cover the fact that he’s impressed by Lance’s forwardness. 

“You to know each other?” The boy beside Lance asks, looking excited. 

“Hardly.” Lance says, scoffing. “We had one conversation and he made fun of my drink the whole time.”

Keith chuckles at the memory of Lance’s angry, cute face. 

“I didn’t know you were a waiter here.” Lance says.

Keith shrugs. He doesn’t really like talking about his employment situation with anyone. “It always helps to make some spending money.” He says casually. “Shiro and I help out whenever we can.” He gestures to where Shiro is at the bar, assuming they already know him. 

“Shiro is the guy I was telling you about, Lance!” Lance’s friend says. Yup, they know him. 

Keith feels his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. It’s probably Chad. They usually hook up around this time. He sighs. “I’m going to put this order in before the kitchen closes.” he lies. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, careful not to look at Lance. 

 

/////////

  
  


Chad kisses his neck in the supply closet, rough and a little unforgiving. The lava cakes are ready before he does anything else. 

 

/////////

 

Keith returns to the table feeling a little sheepish at the giant, red hickey not below his jaw. It’s not really very professional. Sometimes he has very poor judgement when it comes to these things. He sees Lance eyeing it shockingly. He sighs, placing the dessert on the table, clearly not in the mood. “Here’s your cake, cooked marvelously by our finest chefs.” He says flatly, eyeing the girl at the table. “Hope you enjoy, my good people.” He adds sarcastically.

Lance’s friend speaks again. “So, you guys have met.” He says, sounding excited. “Want to introduce us to your friend, Lance?” 

Keith cringes inwardly at the word ‘friend'. It’d probably be best if nobody referred to anyone Keith talks to as a 'friend.'

Lance looks nervous at the statement as well. “Oh-uh— I mean I’m not necessarily his  _ friend— _ “ He tries. Keith smirks at that. “But anyway, this is Hunk.” He says, pointing to the boy beside him. “He’s my best friend in the world and I think we’re gonna grow old together.” 

Keith feels his face soften, momentarily thinking of Pidge. 

“And this is Kate, she’s my girlfriend.” Lance’s voice says, but it sounds far away.

Keith freezes. Wait. What?

_ What _ ? 

He looks at the girl at the table in complete disbelief. Lance…is in a  _ relationship _ ? 

With a  _ girl _ ?

Keith could’ve  _ sworn _ that he was…He  _ had _ to be…He was  _ checking him out! _ What the  _ fuck _ ? 

Kate doesn’t even look at him. Keith feels anger pooling in his stomach. Lance is looking a tim cautiously, like he’s worried he might’ve said something wrong. 

“Hi.” He says to Kate, finding his words. He sounds incredibly icy. “Nice to meet you.” 

Kate completely ignores him. “It’s getting late. Let’s just eat and get out of here. I’m so sleepy.” 

Keith fights the urge to roll his eyes. He understands he was a little snappy at her a few minutes ago, but really?  _ Ignoring _ him? How old is she, twelve?

Lance…is seriously dating her?

It’s not that Keith cares. He’s hooked up with taken people before. And that’s all he really wants out of Lance anyway. 

But still… _ seriously _ ? 

“You know what? I’m going to stay a bit longer.” Lance’s voice snaps him back to reality. It sounds irritated. Could he be angry with Kate too? “Are there any good bands playing tonight?” 

No, there aren’t. But Keith wants him to stay. He lies. “Uh, my friend Pidge usually comes in around eleven thirty to play guitar. She’s really good.” Wow, he sounds desperate. Why does he desperate? 

“I wanna see Pidge.” Lance decides, looking knowingly at Keith. 

Keith smiles, ever so slightly at him, and nods, finally getting himself to walk away.

He may be feeling way too confident, but, he feels like he’s already got the advantage. 

Girlfriend or no girlfriend. 

  
  


///////

 

Keith buses tables and keeps an eye out for lance, who is drifting from one group of college students to the next, having drinks with them and saying things to make them laugh. Keith is entirely mystified by this guy. Is he shy, or is he outgoing? Is he awkward or is he charming? Is he straight? Is he bi? Is it just Keith that makes him act different? 

Deciding rightfully that he has spent  _ way _ too much time thinking about it, he slips on a jacket and heads outside the front door for a bit a fresh air before starting to clean the bar area. There is a small patch of grass just to the right of the entrance of the bar that he loves sitting on. It’s his favorite place to take breaks. To eat lunch. To call his parents. He doesn’t do that very often, but it’s still nice. He slides down the wall and settles on the ground, taking out his phone and scrolling through it. The air is refreshing and crisp on his face. He takes a deep breath. 

“Kogane.” A low, gravelly voice says from above him, making his skin crawl.  _ Fuck _ . 

He looks up and..fuck, there he is. That  _ asshole _ , Phillip Morzel. Keith made the mistake of approaching this old, creepy man in the bar a few weeks ago because he heard through the pipeline that he owned a record company. Or knew someone who did. Or something. Keith had did what he always does when he wants something— flirted. Even though this man is probably fifty. And filthy. And incredibly rude. Keith was convinced that all he had to do was a little bit of touching to get on his good side, but after about a month of disgusting, uncomfortable texts from him, Keith knows he’s definitely in it for something more. 

“When you gonna give what you promised, eh?” He leans down and places a hand on Keith’s thigh. “I’m getting’ impatient, ya know.” It sounds like a threat. Keith suddenly feels, for the first time in a long time,  _ fear _ ; crawling up his throat and making his hands jitter. He shouldn’t have come outside alone. He scowls, pushing the man’s touch away. “I’m not interested anymore.” He says, pushing himself off the wall and standing up shakily. 

“Hmm, I don’t think that’s your decision to make.” The man says angrily. “You see, we had a deal.” 

“No. We didn’t. Leave me alone.” Keith huffs frustratedly, trying to cover his panic, and marches into the bar, making a beeline for the bathroom. He hears the man following him. He pushes through the bathroom door and hears it remain open as Phillip stays close behind. 

“Come on, Pretty Boy.” Phillip spits disgustingly. Keith cringes. “You know you want it. Quit fighting me.” 

Keith growls, hands shaking. “Leave me alone.” 

“God, you’re so pretty.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment. Keith feels like throwing up. “Look at that mouth of yours. Wonder how it would look choking on my—“

“I said  _ leave me alone!” _ Keith snaps, voice cracking. God, why does he _ do this? _ Why does he get himself into this shit? When will he  _ learn? _

Out of nowhere, Keith feels the man’s hands grabbing him and slamming him against the wall. It’s painful. He wants to scream. Panic shoots through his entire body. There is a hand on his neck, tight and strong. He can’t move in the grip. He feels like he can’t breathe. The walls swim around him as he feels a hand at the zipper on his jeans, sloppy and intrusive  He tries to breathe. He can’t. he hears Philip saying something. Something horrible. About being choked, and liking it, and Keith feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes because this isn’t really how he ever planned on dying, but his heart is hammering desperately and he feels a hand in his pants now and the grip tightens on his neck and of  _ course _ this is his own  _ fault _ . Of course it’s his  _ own fucking fault— _

A scream tears through the bathroom and Keith doesn’t even have time to process the sound before he is being let go and falling to the floor. He gasps for breath, choking as he looks up and sees Lance. 

Fucking  _ Lance _ , jumping on Phillips back and punching the absolute  _ shit _ out of him. He’s screaming and swearing and he just throws one punch, after another, after another, tugging violently on Phillip’s hair clawing at his face. Phillip punches back and gets him a couple times and Keith winces, too in shock to do anything.  _ What is happening? What is happening? _

Phillip finally pushes Lance off of him and snarls angrily at both of them, before marching angrily out of the bathroom, cursing up a storm. The bathroom door slams behind him and Keith is surrounded by silence, nothing to be heard but his own pained, ragged breathing. He reaches a hand to his sore neck and looks up at Lance in complete horror, tears filling his eyes. He blinks them away when he sees Lance glaring at him, eyes seething, with an angry flush on his face. “Aren’t you going to turn that guy  _ in _ ? Let me call the fucking police!” He shrieks at Keith, voice breaking due to the volume. 

Keith just stares at him. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t  _ get _ it. This boy is something else. He just  _ saved _ Keith. He just beat up a man to  _ save _ Keith. This awkward, innocent, tall and gangly boy with pretty lips and blue, blue eyes, just jumped onto Phillip’s back and pulled out his hair. Keith feels something very, very unusual in the pit of his gut. It makes him feel small. It makes him feel insecure. He glances down at himself and sees his rumpled, open pants. His trembling fingers. Of all the emotions swirling around in his mind,  _ anger _ is the only one he can identify. 

So he runs with it. 

“What the hell are you doing here? I had it under control.” He snaps, not meaning one word of it. His voice comes out raspy and choked. His throat is sore. 

Lance’s face twists into one of pure confusion. “…What?” 

Keith feels bad, but doesn’t stop. “I didn’t need your help.” he spits. “I had it under control.” 

“Are you  _ serious _ ?” Lance shouts through gritted teeth. Keith stares, completely shocked by the reaction. “I just saved your sorry  _ ass _ , Keith! Don’t you dare try and be a dick to me!” 

Keith is losing his bearings. He can feel it. “I didn’t need you to save me! I’m not a damsel in distress!” 

“Well clearly you did because you were about to fucking pass out if he kept—“

Oh man, the words are crawling up his throat, desperate to come out. Keith squeezes his eyes shut. “It wasn’t his fault!” 

Silence. 

In all the situations he’s been in like this, he’s never actually admitted those words out loud. And the first person he says it to is just a pretty stranger who he wanted to sleep with twenty minutes ago. 

“Excuse me?” Lance asks, voice shaking, like he can’t believe it. 

Keith sighs twice. First with frustration. Then with defeat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. And now he feels like he needs to explain himself, which he hasn’t done in  _ years _ . To  _ anybody _ , except Shiro. But this boy just saved his life. He owes him an explanation. No matter how vulnerable it makes him. No matter how terrifying it feels. 

“I…tend to use my body to get what I want.” He admits painfully. It sounds so weird as he hears it. “So this isn’t the first time this has happened. I get myself into this shit all the time.” He tries a side smile, attempting to lighten the mood so he doesn’t suffocate. “Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the sex is fucking  _ fantastic _ . Other times...shit like this happens.” He feels like an idiot, saying it out loud. It’s something he’s done for years, but admitting it makes him feel like a fucking mess. He never realized how  _ bad _ it was. He never realized what it would sound like to somebody else. 

He’s never been this open before. 

“Dude…” Lance says softly. His voice sounds comforting. Keith feels like crying at the sound of it. He doesn’t even  _ know _ this guy. “Just because you flirt with someone, doesn’t give them the right to choke you and have it be okay. Do you even hear yourself?”

It sounds reasonable. It sounds kind. Keith feels warmth in his chest. “I know, I know.” He says, voice quiet. Even though that is completely new knowledge to him. Even though nobody has ever said  _ anything _ like that to him before. He’s gotten so used to manipulating and being manipulated that he can’t even tell when something genuine is looking him right in the face. “Thank you.” He says, voice sounding shaky as he looks up at Lance. He almost can’t believe himself. He feels disgusted, that an hour ago he was plotting to destroy this boy’s relationship. To make him  _ want _ him, to make him go crazy. To pull him into a supply closet and have his way with him. But that’s not stuff that boys like Lance do. That’s something that boys like Keith do. And Lance, as it turns out, is not a plaything. He’s not  _ like _ Keith. He is more. And Keith needs to stop pushing his shit into things that are perfectly fine without it. 

“I thought the way you shut down Kate at dinner was fucking hilarious.” Lance says suddenly, completely out of the blue. It takes Keith a second to remember, but then he recalls the lava cake incident and he can’t even believe that Lance just  _ said _ that. Out  _ loud _ . In  _ this _ situation. At this moment in time. Is he  _ nuts _ ? Who even  _ is _ this boy? He looks up and sees Lance grinning crookedly at him, eyes shining, and fuck, that’s the last straw. 

He bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and doubling over, trying to stop the tears from running down his cheeks. It’s mixture of relief, and happiness, and maybe a little bit of giddiness because for some reason Lance is sticking around and bantering with him even after everything he just saw. Everything that Keith told him. Everything that happened. Why is he  _ still here _ ? 

He finally calms down and Lance is looking at him with soft eyes and a small smile. He is blushing. Keith swallows.  _ Why. Why is this happening to me. _

 

/////////

 

Keith ends up standing up eventually and zipping his pants. He feels incredibly embarrassed, which is an emotion that he hasn’t felt for so long he didn’t even think he physically  _ could _ anymore. But he feels it now. And as much as he hates it, he kind of likes it. Because it makes him feel more human. It makes him feel less numb. Like he cares about something. 

It’s just been so, so long. 

He’s  _ got _ to let this one go. He’s got to let Lance walk out of here, untouched. Unscathed. Free to live his happy, frat boy life with his pretty girlfriend and his incredibly kind partner in crime. Let them grow old together. Never to see Keith again. 

But then Lance blurts out, “Wanna smoke?” Just as Keith is walking out the door. 

Keith turns around, intrigued even though he doesn’t want to be. Why won’t Lance  _ leave _ ? Why is he still  _ here _ ? “Smoke what?” He asks. 

“I don’t know. Weed?” Lance asks, adorably. Keith’s eyebrows scrunch together and he tries not to smile. “I’ve got a bit here.” He scrambles to get a small, ziplock bag out of his pocket and Keith stares at his long, slender fingers as they fiddle with the plastic. He seems nervous. 

“Lance.” He says softly, placing a hand on Lance’s forearm. neither of them are expecting the touch, but Lance is the only one who reacts. He glances the fingers on his arm. “Want me to do it?” He offers. 

Lance blushes. Keith decides he likes how it looks on Lance’s tan, pretty face. “Yeah…yeah thanks.” 

They end up passing the patch of grass that Keith loves so much, because now Keith can’t stand it, and moving towards the back of the bar. They sit side by side against the brick wall, bathing in the frosty air. Keith doesn’t sit back here very much. He likes how the whole sky is visible from here though, not blocked by power lines or half-dead trees. He brings the blunt to his lips and takes a hit. It beens a while since he last smoked. The warm, high feeling fills his lungs and he lets his eyes flutter shut, handing the joint to Lance. “Here ya go.” He says, satisfied. 

If this is the last time he’s ever going to speak to this guy, then it’s not a bad last time. It’s nice. He’s happy with his decision. 

Their knees press together between them. Keith wants to press even further. He restrains himself. He’s not getting involved. What are some safe topics? 

“So, you’re girlfriend…” He starts, feeling incredibly awkward. When he’s not flirting he feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “…how do you two, uh, meet?” He watches Lance blow out a puff of smoke, cheeks hollowing. 

_ Fuck _ . 

_ You can’t have him, Keith. Look away. _

“We met at a frat party. I was drunk.” Keith snorts softly. Sounds romantic. “I mean, not  _ super _ drunk. I don’t know. I thought she was cute. We went out for milkshakes. It was a good time.” 

Keith nods slowly, but doesn’t say anything. Mostly because he doesn’t know what he would say to that. It’s  _ so…normal _ . His life has  _ never _ been that normal.

Smoke curls around Lance’s face as Keith takes another hit. He watches it drift past his delicate, hooked nose and short eyelashes. 

How does he get more attractive with every passing minute? 

Lance continues talking. It sounds more like a nervous ramble. “I know she seemed like a bit of a bitch when you met her before, but she’s actually pretty sweet. I mean, she is a little boring, but sweet. Sometimes I wanna do  _ more _ though, you know? There are only so many movies with Ben Stiller in them that I can watch before I lose it.”

Feeling pleased with everything he just heard, Keith giggles. Ben Stiller. What a sucker. 

They sit in silence for a few more moments. Keith is itching for conversation, but he just doesn’t know how to do it. He talks with Pidge, but it’s different because he’s not... _ sexually attracted _ to Pidge. He’s not sexually attracted to Pidge and trying not to flirt too much or get to close for fear of ruining Pidge’s life. Lance, on the other hand? He’s very,  _ very _ attracted to. And if he’s not trying to get in his pants, what the  _ hell _ does he talk about?

He decides to go with the one thing that he likes, other than penises. 

“Do you believe in aliens?” He asks, equally high and curious. He feels Lance turning to look at him.

“Do I…what now?” 

God, Keith is stupid. In what world is this a good idea? But if he’s not looking to impress this guy then…whatever. “Aliens!” he says, and he can feel himself smiling just thinking about it. “Do you think they exist? Like, UFO’s, or giant spaceships, or, you know, space malls?” 

Lance blinks at him with those blue, blue eyes. “Are you…being serious?” 

“Come on, man! Oh god, now he’s getting into it. He should never smoke weed. “They could really be out there, this is serious stuff! I was watching this one documentary—“

“No you weren’t” Lance says, shaking his head. But his blow-out pupils stay trained on Keith’s face. “You watch  _ alien conspiracy theory documentaries? _ ” 

Keith grins at the sky. “Shut up, man.” He says sheepishly, with no bite to his words. " It’s really interesting stuff. The world is so fucking  _ huge _ , there’s gotta be something else out there.”

He doesn’t have to look to feel Lance smiling at him. 

The warmth in his chest lingers. He wills it to go away. 

“Did your lip piercing hurt?” Lance asks, voice light and airy. 

Keith chuckles. He knew that Lance would say something about his lip ring. He tries to keep it tame. “Why. You want one?” A pause. “It wouldn’t suit you.” Walking the line between teasing and flirting. 

“Why not? I’m plenty dangerous!” Lance defends.

“You think you’re girlfriend would approve?” Keith asks, testing the waters. Even though he shouldn’t. 

“I mean… I don’t see why not?” 

Keith grunts. Not the best answer. 

“I mean, I don’t know!” Lance rambles on. "I was just thinking I might want one.” 

“Why?” Keith debates the next words before he says them. “You think they’re sexy?” He can’t keep the smugness out of his voice. Because he already knows the answer. Lance’s blushing face makes it clear. 

“God yes.” Lance says with a breath, looking down at the ground with a flush creeping up his neck.

_ Cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. _ “Oh yeah?” 

Lance tilts his head to the side, so that they are facing each other. It makes the space between their faces decrease significantly. Keith is so  _ used to  _ getting what he wants. And Lance is right  _ there _ . So close. Right in front of him. He could  _ do it _ . He could lean over and kiss him. He could press him up against the brick wall. Make him moan. Make him shiver. 

But he doesn’t.

“You’re not wearing it today.” Lance says, a little sadly, glancing down at Keith’s lips. 

Keith hums. Their proximity is delicious. “I dropped it in my bathroom sink. It went down the drain. Gotta buy a new one.” 

Lance snorts. “Not so badass after all.” He says softly, with a smile, holding Keith’s gaze. 

Keith shrugs lazily. “Still pretty badass. I have a hole in my fucking lip, so…”

At this, Lance let’s to a loud, unexpected laugh. His nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He covers his mouth to stifle it but fails miserably, giggling breathlessly into his hand. Keith didn’t think what he said was very funny, but they  _ are _ pretty high. And seeing Lance laugh like that leaves a hot curling in his stomach that travels all the way up to his face. 

So fucking  _ pretty. _

So untouchable. 

Lance finally calms down, sending Keith a nervous smile. “I…should get going.” He says, sounding unsure, as he searches Keith’s eyes. “I can walk from here.” 

Keith nods, standing up and accepting that the night has come to an end. It is over, and he didn’t score. He didn’t get in his pants. He didn’t have quick, dirty sex in the supply closet. Or the bathroom stall. Or the backseat of someone’s car. 

But he talked about aliens.

He somehow feels incredibly satisfied, anyway. 

He gives Lance a once over, one more time, just for his own pleasure. Lance really is an exquisite piece of work. Too exquisite for Keith’s worn, dirty hands to touch. He clears his throat. “Hey, thanks for, you  know, stopping that guy. I was a dick about it but…I didn’t mean to be.” 

At this Lance just shrugs. It looks casual. It  _ feels _ casual. Because that’s what all of this is. It’s just casual. “Thanks for smoking with me.” He says, with side smile. And before Keith can get in the last word, Lance turns on his heel and walks away, disappearing at the end of the sidewalk. 

And Keith knows that this was for the best. He knows that he really helped that guy, by not pushing himself onto him. By not trailing his fingers over his forearm or whispering suggestive things into his ear. Lance’s life will probably be 100% better now that Keith has decided not to be in it.

But there a small voice in the back of his mind the keeps reminding him of the pretty eyes, the long, slender fingers, the sassy remarks, the shaggy, wispy hair. He feels the embarrassment, the heat in his chest, in his cheeks; things he hasn’t felt since he was just a child. And it feels so  _ scary _ , but so  _ real _ . 

Above all else, all he seems to hear is that small, small voice.  _ Don’t let him go. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhHHH IM SORRY IF IT SUCKED vndsiuhwdnfvwia my brain is so tired


	11. From The Drummer Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next 2 chapters from Keiths POV :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for 2000 followers on tumblr! heres a little somethin somethin! love you all!
> 
> ps. I cant believe this is the MVP "spots that turn me on" scene like, i rewrote it in HDBAH and its so weird to me that they are similar haha. just....life
> 
> p.p.s i did my best, okay? It's hard to rewrite a story if you wrote it a while ago when you were shittier at dialogue :p I can't change what they said! so i tried my bessttt hahaha while keeping the same dialogue. please spare me
> 
> p.p.p.s there will be typos. i wrote this at 2AM and didn't proof read it. have mercy on me
> 
> love you all! thank you again for all of your support!

Lance has been asking about him. 

Keith honestly wouldn’t believe it, but Shiro makes it a habit of letting Keith know every time Lance comes into the bar. Keith keeps telling Shiro that he’s trying to  _ forget _ about that boy; the effect he had on Keith was...concerning, and Keith wants to let it go as quickly as possible. But apparently, every day for the past two weeks, Lance has been coming into the bar and asking Shiro about him. And Shiro is having way too much fun with the embarrassed flush that tints Keith’s cheeks whenever he brings it up. 

“I think Mr. Tall, Tan, and Handsome has a crush on you.” Shiro says jokingly one day, as he cleans out some empty glasses at the bar. “I’m running out of blackmail material. He practically knows everything about you now.” 

Keith sits at a a barstool, fiddling with a straw wrapper. The bar opens in about an hour and a lot of cleaning still needs to be done, but he can’t bring himself to do anything. He feels the heat in his face at the comment. “No, he doesn’t.” He says. But even he doesn’t believe himself. 

Lance is clearly interested in him. Right? He’s not crazy for thinking so. 

God, this boy is driving him nuts. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bothered by…” Shiro hums in consideration. “By anything, really.” 

“He’s dating this girl...” Keith mumbles, mostly to himself. “But I mean, I could’ve sworn that he was into me.” 

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “And what made you think that, exactly?” 

Keith shrugs. “I mean…” 

The unspoken answer floats needlessly between them.  _ Everyone is into me. _

Shiro sighs. “Maybe he’s just curious about you. I guess it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Keith looks at him, clearly unconvinced. “Sure.” He agrees halfheartedly. “Guess that could be it.” 

He knows that he agreed not to meddle with Lance’s life. But how is he supposed to do that when Lance is so obviously meddling with his? He’s making it so difficult. 

Opting to change the subject once and for all, Keith says, “I wrote a new song last night.” 

Shiro looks up at him, understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about Lance anymore. “Yeah? About what?” 

Keith feels his muscles loosening as he explains his night, mind drifting further and further away from those stupid blue eyes. 

He can do this. He forgets about people all the time. One more isn’t a big deal. 

 

/////

 

Okay, so maybe it is kind of a big deal. 

It’s a big deal now because as Keith is getting ready to go on stage later in the evening, he sees Lance. 

He wasn't expecting to see Lance tonight. Or ever again, really. So when he recognizes the wispy brown hair and lanky limbs, hunched over a laptop in the dim light of the bar, he finds himself very caught off guard. He never decided what his plan of action would be if he ever saw Lance again. He definitely agreed to stay away, but he can’t help it if he finds himself slowly walking in Lance’s direction. It’s like a fucking magnet. He doesn’t feel like it’s in his control. And the curiosity is eating him alive.  _ Does he like me? _

Before he knows it, he’s too close to back away. Lance has already seen him. He curses inwardly at himself. Why did he put himself in this position? Usually he’s better about these things. He tends to be much more aloof than this. 

Panicking as Lance’s eyes train on him, he blurts out, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Lance raises an eyebrow slightly.

_ What the fuck was that?  _

Keith has never said anything like that out loud, ever, in his entire life. But it’s too late to backtrack now, so he just casually slumps into the chair across from Lance. A very quiet Lance, who doesn’t seem to be answering him. Keith studies the boy’s face. There is a laptop in front of him, along with an open textbook and some notebook paper and...hold up. “Are you fucking studying right now?” 

Lance looks very confused for a moment but then his expression clears. “Yes I’m doing homework.” He says, sounding snappy. “ This paper is due tomorrow at midnight. I’ve been procrastinating like crazy.”

“It’s a Friday night.” Keith replies Incredulously. “You’re literally at a bar.” 

“I don’t wanna be at home. It’s too quiet.” 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Too quiet? For Homework?” He asks, genuinely confused. To his surprise, Lance blushes slightly. 

“Yes, Keith. Too quiet for homework.” He’s got a tiny pout on his face that’s making Keith’s fingers curl up into the material of his pants. So fucking adorable. 

“Interesting.” Keith says dumbly. And he wants to redeem himself. He really does, but then his phone is vibrating in his pocket, signaling for him to take the stage. He stands up. 

Suddenly, Lance asks, “Where are you going?” And he sounds sad. Keith wonders if he meant to sound that way. 

“I’m playing tonight, man.” Keith says, feeling himself smiling a little at the reaction. “It’s Friday.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Oh god, Keith really wants to sit back down. Lance’s oversized hoodie is doing things to him. For the first time in a while, there is something he wants to do more than drumming. So he can’t help it when the next line slips out.  “I’m going to buy a new lip ring after my gig if you wanna come with, ya know, to see what it’s all about.” 

Oops. That’s not exactly ‘staying away’. But Lance’s face lights up with a smile and it feels worth it. 

“Sure.” He replies. 

Keith climbs onto the stage, feeling stupidly on top of the world. 

He’s really got to get it together. 

 

//////

 

After his gig, he is actually a little shocked to find that Lance is still there, waiting for him. He really thought that Lance would forget, or bail at the last minute, but he’s still there. Waiting outside the bar. He’s leaning against the brick wall under a beautifully placed overhead light and scrolling through his phone. 

Keith gives himself to a moment to stare. It’s self indulgent, really. The stuff of his fantasies, which is so pathetic because he’s only known the asshole for three damn weeks. Taking a deep, reluctant breath, he walks over to where Lance is standing. Lance looks up at him when he gets closer, and smiles. 

“So, do you want me to drive?” He asks. “We can stop by my place and get my car.” 

Oh boy. His place? Not good. Keith shakes his head. “The place I usually go to is walking distance from here. We should be okay.” He says, thankful that it is actually the truth. He gestures for Lance to walk with him. 

They walk side by side. If Keith is standing a little too close, he doesn’t try to fix it. He let’s himself have these small moments, because it’s all he’s really going to get. He promised himself he would...not meddle. The back of Lance’s hand brushes his and he feels it all the way up his spine. Jesus fucking christ. 

“So how long have you had that piercing, anyway?” Lance asks. 

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know. Five, six years? I got it in my sophomore year of high school.”

Lance hums. “That’s a while.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Keith laughs. Conversations. How do friends have conversations? “This is like the fourth time I've lost one in the sink though. So, that’s fun.” He adds. 

A brief silence passes and Keith brings his hands together, wringing them nervously and praying Lance doesn’t notice. He’s got to ask. He has to. He needs to know. “So, I hear you’ve been asking Shiro all about me.” 

He tries not to make it sound smug, but fails. He feels the smirk on his face. 

“W-what?” Lance stutters endearingly, looking shocked. “No I don’t! We just talk! He’s the one that usually brings you up! Don’t flatter yourself, drummer boy.”

Keith flushes at the nickname. But he’s encouraged by the defensive response. He hums lowly. “That’s not what I heard.” 

“Well you heard wrong!” Lance snaps back. Lance is setting him up for flirting. This banter feels like flirting. God dammit. 

He slows down as he sees the sign for the tattoo parlor. Lance slows with him. He reaches out, almost on instinct, and touched Lance’s forearm. Just a light touch. A..suggestive one. 

He’s only human, okay? 

Lance is flushing, glancing down at the touch and then back up at him. Could he be any more obvious? Keith is going to pull his hair out in frustration. Instead, he says, “You’re cute when you’re angry.” It rolls off his tongue, smooth and seductive, like he’s used to. 

“I--uh--” Lance blinks at him, stunned. “I--wha--?” 

Keith sighs slightly. Yeah, that’s the reaction he wanted. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He teases, pointing upwards at the sign. “Also, we’re here.” 

Lance frowns slightly at him, and Keith can’t keep the shit-eating grin off of his face. 

 

//////

 

Lance is a lot more excited about shopping for lip rings than Keith is. Which he thinks is incredibly...sweet. Not many people look at Keith’s lip piercing and think “Oh, what a cool accessory.” Nobody really sees it for what it is--just a small metal ring that can be changed out. A ring that can match outfits, like a necklace or earrings. Instead, people see it as a giant sign, plastered across Keith’s forehead, that may as well read “Stay Away At All Costs” or “Fuck Me, I’m Free”. 

But Lance sees it for what it is. And it’s...

An accessory. A metal ring that can be changed out. 

“Oh, you have got to try this one.” Lance says excitingly, grinning and handing a neon pink ring to Keith. “I know it’s not your cup of tea--”

“No.”

“--but neon pink is super in right now!” Lance goads, pushing it in Keith’s face. Keith is really starting to understand more and more things about Lance’s personality. 

But even so. “Lance, I’m not wearing a neon pink lip ring.” He says, chuckling. “I don’t care how pretty it is.” 

Lance pouts. “Fine.” He says sadly. “But just know I’ll be upset about it for the rest of my life.” 

Keith laughs, heart fluttering. “Well, how about I let you pick from the ones in this case?” He says, gesturing to a case that displays mostly black rings. Lance wrinkles his nose at him. 

“Wouldn’t be my choice…” He mumbles. “But okay.” He walks over to the case and peers into it, contemplatively. “Ah-hah!” He says. “I see a color!” He points to a ring in the case. “That’s the one.” 

Keith looks at the one he is pointing to. It has a small, red stripe. He smiles a little to himself. “Well, looks like that’s it, then.” 

Lance beams at him. And honestly, with that reaction, he’s almost regretting not trying on the neon pink one.

The woman at the counter doesn’t look at all surprised with Keith’s choice. He’s been here a few times and tends to keep it very simple. After they pay, Keith carefully places his new ring where the old one would’ve been. He turns to Lance. “How do I look?” He asks, caring way too much about the response. 

Lance blinks at him, looking a little dazed. The pink in his cheeks says it all. Keith tries not to entertain the bubbling in his chest at the sight of it. Lance thinks he looks good. Lance is  _ into him _ . It’s all just so  _ frustrating _ . 

“It looks good.” Lance says, a little breathlessly. Keith wants to scream. And he almost does, when Lance takes two steps closer and lifts a hand to his face. Keith feels the warm pad of Lance’s thumb rub at his lip ring for a moment, and icy-cold heat tingles through to his fingertips. Is this boy trying to kill him? 

“Shall we uh--go now?” Lance says awkwardly, dropping his hand. He looks sheepish. 

“Yeah, they’re about to close anyway.” Keith says, clearing his throat slightly. 

They begin walking back toward the bar. 

The air outside is just chilly enough to have Keith stuffing his hands into his pockets. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor, trying as hard as he can not to look at Lance. 

Maybe he really can just be this guy’s friend. It’s something Keith has never really done. Just been around someone for the sake of being around them. And Lance...seems like the kind of person Keith could spend hours and hours with. Like a friend.

A really attractive friend. 

He gives up and glances at Lance, who is studying his feet with a furrowed brow and a flat, concerned mouth. 

“You good?” Keith asks. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just thinking about that paper I was writing. I’m so behind.”

Keith sniffs. “Eh, it’s just school. You’ll get there.” He says encouragingly. Friends encourage each other, right? That’s a friend thing. He’s actually okay at this. He doesn’t really know anything about school. Well not college, at least. Maybe he should change the subject. “So what does Shiro say about me? Ya know, behind my back and all?” He asks, smirking. 

Lance sighs a little defeatedly. “I don’t know. He said you started playing the drums because you had serious anger issues--”

Keith chuckles. 

“--and that you really like Cheetos…”

_ Cute _ . He remembers. “Fucking delicious snack.” He agrees. 

“And that you’re a major flirt.” 

Keith feels the smirk before it happens. “Also not false.” 

Then in a more hesitant voice, “And that you used to wear your mom’s eyeliner.” 

Holy fuck, Shiro did  _ not _ talk about that. “ _ What _ ?” Keith snaps, feeling incredibly embarrassed. How could Shiro do this to him? That was one of the cringiest points in his life. He whirls around to face Lance. “He told you about that?  _ God _ I’m gonna kill him!” 

Lance giggles in a lighthearted, beautiful way. “Chill, drummer boy. It’s not a big deal.” He says, white teeth peeking out in an easy grin. “I thought it was adorable.” 

Keith blinks at him, stunned. Wait...what? 

The word ‘adorable’ hangs in the air between them--not quite floating one way or the other. Keith swallows, wrapping his arms around himself. Lance is looking at him so earnestly. It’s such a new experience, being looked at like that. 

He’s making this impossible. 

How does he not see what is  _ happening _ here? 

  
  
  
  


The spend the rest of the walk back talking about trivial things. Things that Keith typically wouldn’t care enough to talk about. But talking about them with Lance is actually a lot of fun.

The whole time, the butterflies in his stomach are multiplying, and multiplying, and multiplying. 

  
  


//////

  
  


“What’s going on with you?” Pidge asks suspiciously. “You’ve been acting super weird.” 

They’re getting together for their weekly movie night and Keith doesn’t even have to say two words before Pidge is on his case. He isn’t surprised that she noticed something was a little off. She tends to be a very observant person, especially when it comes to Keith’s awful habits. 

Keith, of course, doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about the fact that this guy is literally driving him certifiably insane. He doesn’t want to talk about the fact that Lance has been in some portion of his dream every night for the past few days. He can’t help it. There’s just something so different about him. Keith can’t seem to stop thinking about him. 

He wonders if this is what having a crush is like. Because he’s definitely been attracted to guys in the past. But even guys he dated, he didn’t think about this much. Maybe it’s because he never really have conversations with them. Maybe it’s because most of the time, they just fucked and then went their separate ways. 

“It’s nothing.” Keith says bluntly, clearing his throat. 

“Wow. I’m so convinced.” Pidge says sarcastically. 

Keith sighs, kneeling down in front of the DVD cabinet. “Wanna do a cooking documentary tonight?” He asks, praying Pidge will show him some mercy.    
“You seriously not going to tell me?” 

Keith sighs. “Look, it’s really stupid. It’ll pass. You know how I get about boys.” 

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “Uh, no? I don’t? Because you never get  _ anything _ about boys. Since when so you care? Did one of them steal your wallet again?” 

Keith grimaces at the memory. “Nah.” 

Pidge sighs in defeat. “Fine. I know you’ll tell me eventually.” She pulls her legs up onto the couch. “Let’s do the cooking one, I guess.” She decides. “You got the snacks?” 

Keith glances at his kitchen. Shit. “Uh...I will. In fifteen minutes.” 

“You’re not prepared for movie night?” Pidge shrieks. “Hah! I knew something was wrong!” 

“Nothing is wrong!” Keith says unconvincingly. “Let me just...go to the gas station, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“You better be!” Pidge says sternly. Keith rolls his eyes, putting his shoes on. He doesn't bother changing out of his sweats. It’s just the gas station.

“Any requests?” He asks, halfway out the door. 

“Cheetos!” Pidge shouts after him. “Only the family size bag is acceptable!” 

 

////

 

Keith has had way too many...adventures in this gas station. He likes to think that he isn’t the specific kind of ho that hooks up with men in gas station bathrooms but that isn’t quite the case. Because he’s hooked up with at least four people in this gas station alone. And they are regulars, so he tends to hold his breath whenever he visits it. Especially late into the night like this; this is when they usually start showing up. He almost always runs into someone he’s seen naked at some point. It’s always, always super awkward. 

But the coast looks clear tonight, for the most part. Keith isn’t here looking for a hookup anyway. Just some snacks. He’s balancing a few bags of chips, plus some sodas in his arms, when he looks up and sees…

No  _ fucking way _ .

The universe is trying to end him. It’s official. The cosmos want him dead. 

Fucking  _ Lance _ is standing at the glass case towards the front of the line. He’s gazing hungirly at the hot food items on display and oh god-- he’s in  _ formal wear. _ He’s in a blue button down shirt. It looks so  _ good _ on him. He even had the audacity to unbutton the first few buttons, exposing a portion of the smooth brown skin on his chest. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, and his forearms are slim and toned. Gray slacks hug his ass snugly, fitting all the way down his long long legs. Keith tries to breathe but isn’t surprised to find that all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. 

“Lance?” He hears himself saying, distantly. Lance swivels around, eyes comically wide as they land on Keith. Keith notices a small hickey on the underside of Lance’s jaw and his stomach boils with jealousy. 

“Drummer boy?” Lance asks in disbelief, expression unchanging. 

“Wha-” Keith’s voice literally gives out. He didn’t realize how dry his mouth was. “What are you up to?” 

Lance shrugs. “Ya know, just buying junk food. Making regretful decisions. You?”

Keith looks down at the Cheetos. “Yeah, same.” He says. “Wanted some movie snacks.”

“Movie? You having a movie night?” Lance asks, face brightening slightly. Keith almost has to look away. Why is Lance asking? Why does he care? 

Would Lance want to come? No that’s insane. Keith can’t just invite him like that. Lance looks like has somewhere to be. He’s got a hickey and a button-down on. 

But then what is he doing in a gas station at midnight? 

“I mean, I guess.” Keith replies. “I’m watching a cooking documentary. I got hungry.”

“What is up with you and documentaries?”

Keith shrugs, blushing. Lance remembers that too? They were so high, though. “They’re fucking great.” He says a little hesitantly. He doesn’t really want to come across as a dork. He’s gotta be seductive, right? Well...maybe not. They’re just friends, after all. “Wanna come over and find out for yourself?” Keith finds himself asking, before he can talk himself out of it. “My friend Pidge is over, we could always use the company.”

Lance looks taken aback by the offer. He visibly swallows.  “Yeah, sure.” He says, with a light smile. There are those butterflies again, exploding in Keith’s stomach where they have no right to be. 

Keith takes a step forward in line, and then turns to look at Lance again. Just because they’re friends, doesn’t mean he can’t let Lance know when he looks...nice. He opens his mouth before he loses his nerve. “You look really damn good tonight, Lance.” He says, cringing a little when it comes out a lot fliriter than he meant it to. Or...didn’t mean it to. Or...whatever. 

Lance flushes, looking away nervously. “Oh--uh--” He looks distraught. Keith feels guilty. That’s definitely not something friends say to each other. “Thanks, Keith.” 

“No problem.”

After Keith pays, they make their way out into the midnight air. It feels familiar, even though he’s only ever walked like this with Lance once before. They stay silent, for the most part. It’s partially because Keith is convinced that if he talks too much, he’ll definitely screw something up. Not that there is anything to screw up. Because nothing is going to happen between them...but it’s just….

They occasionally talk. Keith loves listening to Lance’s voice. It’s smooth and pleasant to listen to, but spikes and dips and cracks as his mood changes. As the conversation changes. And all of the little things he has to say make Keith want to learn more, and more, and more. 

Keith has never met someone so expressive. He wonders how Lance is expressive in other ways. Honestly, he’s thinking about Lance in bed. He can’t really pretend that he isn’t. 

When they make it to his apartment, Keith feels the slight nervousness at the idea of showing his apartment to someone new. He’s brought a lot of people here, don’t be mistaken. But he’s never cared...about them. He’s never planned on seeing any of them again. 

Also, he remembers in horrifying clarity that Pidge in currently in there, and she isn’t exactly the most subtle person in the world. 

They pad into the living rooms and Keith’s nervousness only increases when Pidge looks up. Her eyes fall on Lance and she scowls slightly. 

“Keith, how many times do I have to tell you not to bring random guys home from the gas station? Do you remember what happened last time?”

Oof. Not a good start. Keith glances at Lance, who looks very perplexed. He shoots a warning glare at Pidge, who seems very inclined to not give a shit. He walks over to her and plops down on the couch next to her. “He’s not a random guy. He’s a friend.” He says, almost bitter enough for it to be noticeable. Almost. “Pidge, this is Lance.” He gestures towards to tall boy. “Lance, Pidge. We’ve been friends for five years.” 

“Longest five years of my life.” Pidge says jokingly, and some of the tension in Keith’s shoulders dissipates. “Nice to meet you, Lance.” 

“We met at a bar.” Lance says, probably to clarify. 

“Gotcha.” Pidge says. “Well, Lance, wanna come watch how processed chicken nuggets are made?” She gestures at the spot next to Keith on the couch, and Keith suddenly feels a little anxious. Why did he think this was a good idea again? 

Lance grins brightly. “Hell yeah.”

Keith blushes furiously.

Oh yeah. That’s why. 

 

/////

 

When Pidge offers that they start drinking beer, Keith already knows that he’s fucked. 

Pidge must know exactly what is going on here. Keith didn’t even have to give her a clue. She’s way too smart for that shit. And now she’s enjoying herself way too much, messing with Keith’s mind. He doesn’t blame her--he’s never had a crush before. And now that he...well... _ might _ , she’s going to milk it as much as possible. 

Doesn't help that he can’t stop thinking about what Lance would look like with a drunk flush in his face. Slurring his words tiredly and nuzzling his face into Keith’s neck and--

Jesus fuck, Keith needs alcohol. 

Pidge comes in from the kitchen with a six pack in her hand and Keith sighs. Oh yeah. He forgot about all the beer they had. Mike bought it for him. Mike the marathon sex guy. He must've felt bad for taking up so much of Keith's time.

“How did you find my beer stash?” Keith asks. “I was only gone for fifteen minutes!”

“It’s not that easy to miss, Keith. It’s fucking huge. Where on earth did you manage to get all of this beer anyhow?” Pidge asks. 

Keith is very torn between telling the truth and telling a marvelously safe lie. He sighs, deciding on the truth. Guess it doesn’t matter what Lance thinks of him now. “It was a gift from someone.”

Pidge smirks knowingly and looks at Lance. “See why I keep him around? So many guys are in love with him that I get free stuff all the time.”

Keith groans inwardly. Pidge is laying it on thick. She’s...right, in a sense. But still laying it on kind of thick. He looks over at Lance and is surprised to see the unbridled shock, plain on his face. Is this...actually working? 

“Some random guy got you four cases of beer?” Lance asks incredulously. 

Keith suddenly feels confident. A little proud. “I mean, I gave him a great time so—“

“Ew ew ew stop” Pidge interjects, “I don’t want to hear about your gross sex adventures.”

“They’re not _that_ gross” Keith says defensively. Apparently Pidge didn’t want to take it this far. Kind of a pity. 

“Keith, they are so gross. Are you forgetting I live next to you?”

It’s something they’ve talked about a lot. Keith actually feels pretty bad for Pidge. She’s had to hear some pretty nasty things. They both look at each other for a moment, and then start laughing. They really do have an odd friendship, and never really noticed because there’s never anyone around to balance them out. 

Pidge sits back down on the couch and places the beer on the coffee table. “Wanna play a drinking game?” 

Keith feels himself grinning. So far, he’s shown Lance some pretty unattractive sides of him, so he’s thinking he doesn’t have much to lose anymore. “Wanna go with the usual?” He suggests. 

“What’s the usual?” Lance asks. 

“We put on a documentary about aliens, and every time they say “alien”, we drink.” Pidge replies. 

Lance rolls his eyes, but his small smile gives him away. “Of course that’s the usual.”

It’s Keith and Pidge’s favorite thing to do. Say what you want, but getting drunk while watching cheesy documentaries should be done much more, by many more people. Very few things make Keith more content. 

But as they start drinking, two beers turns to four beers turns to six beers, and Lance gets drunker and drunker and more and more irresistible. Keith realizes he’s not nearly as drunk as he needs to be in order to be able to handle it. A small voice in the back of his head tells him that you shouldn’t have to drink to stop thinking about fucking your friends, but he sneaks into the kitchen and takes a couple shots of whiskey to effectively suffocate that voice into silence. He finds his way back to the couch and sits down next to Lance again. The documentary drags on. Keith barely watches it. 

God, he so fucked.

 

 

“Yeah, I’m too tiny for that much beer.” Pidge says about two hours later, as the documentary is wrapping up. “I’m going to go home and pass out. It was really nice to meet you Lance. I hope Keith brings you again.”

Keith can hear how suggestive her voice is. How did he go from being the sexy guy to the awkward guy who needs a wingman? When did this transition happen? 

“It was nice to meet you too, Pidge.” Lance slurs happily, now clearly wasted. 

Pidge waves lazily behind her head as she walks out the door, leaving Lance and Keith sitting alone in his tiny apartment. Keith is very aware of how Lance is pressed up against his side, his body feels exceptionally warm; lean and hot and toned and all Keith wants to do is fall into it.

“How am I gonna get home? I have no idea where I am.” Lance sighs. “You can’t drive, can you?”

Keith feels like he is ready to go to bed, eyes heavy with sleep. He blinks slowly, looking at Lance, and then shakes his head. He shouldn’t have let this happen, but honestly he’s a little too drunk to be cautious at this point. “Stay the night.” He finds himself mumbling. “I won’t bite I promise.” Okay he didn’t have to say that. That totally wasn’t necessary. But five beers and two shots of whiskey will make you say unnecessary things. 

“Oh, I uh-“ Lance looks unsure. Keith knows why. Keith knows it’s because Lance isn’t unsure at  _ all _ . He  _ wants _ to. So when he starts nodding, Keith feels his heart start to thump excitedly. “Yeah, okay.”

Keith knows he’s grinning like an idiot but can’t stop. He stands up quicly, but then promptly realizes that the floor and ceiling and...basically everything is moving. He stumbles a little drunkenly and Lance catches his shoulder. His hand feels warm. 

“Woah, man. Slow down.” Lance says, amused. “You are actually drunk, aren’t you? You only had five beers! Whose a little girl now?”

Keith would be turned on by the sass if he wasn’t also slightly offended by it. He pouts defensively. His words come out very slurred. “I took two shots ofvwhiskey in th’ kitchen after I wen’ to the bathroom.”

“What? Why?”

Oh man, time to lie. He shrugs, grinning. “I like whiskey.”

Keith feels Lance’s arm wrap firmly around his waist, grounding him. His skin buzzes. “Come on, big guy.” Lance says, maybe a little fondly. Keith leans into him, slowly losing willpower as Lance’s citrus smell fills his nose. They stumble in the direction of Keith’s room.

He drops Keith down on his tiny bed. “I’m going to get you some water.” Lance says softly. He sounds a little tipsy, but not nearly as far gone as Keith feels. Keith lays on the bed in silence, listening to his own heartbeat, roaring in his ears. A kind boy is getting him water. Taking care of him because he drank too much. A kind, sweet boy. Kind, sweet, and so fucking sexy…

Keith doesn’t remember taking off his clothes but then suddenly he’s in his boxers. He sighs contentedly, burying his face into his pillow. 

Then he opens his eyes, and there is Lance. Standing near his bed with a cup of water in his hand and his beautiful long limbs and…

Keith is drunk but he can barely even use it as an excuse for what he does next. He reaches forward and pats the empty space next to him on his bed. 

He literally _ invites Lance to bed. _

“No” Lance says, “No no nooope. I’ll just sleep on the couch.” 

Totally logical. Probably the better option, because Keith doesn’t even sort of believe that he'd be able to control himself if Lance were any closer to him. But he pouts, anyhow. Lance’s face seems to crumble at the sight of it. “Keith…”

“Come on, ‘m drunk and it’s cold. I won’t tell your girlfriend.” Keith pushes, clearly not in his best interest. 

“My-what? Why would it matter if she knew?” Lance says, sounding panicked. Keith wants to explode. He wants to flip over all the furniture in his room.  _ Because you like me, asshole! You. Like. Me!  _

“Come onnnnnn, scaredy cat. I told you I won’t bite.” Was that flirty? That was probably flirty. But Lance is inching closer. The smell of him getting stronger and stronger, which effectively makes Keith weaker and weaker. There’s only so much he can take. 

Lance strips his shirt off and holy shit, Keith is ready. Keith is ready to  _ demolish _ this boy. 

But then Lance climbs into his bed, tentatively and slowly, like he truly is nervous. Maybe even a little uncomfortable. And it hits Keith. It hits his drunk, spinning brain in a moment of clarity. 

This boy saved his life. 

This boy, for some reason, gives a  _ shit _ about him. Without any sex involved at all. When was the last time Keith ever had that? 

And Keith...cares about him, too. In the strangest, most incomprehensible way. It’s all so muddled in his head but he does know one thing; he’s always been rough and sloppy with his relationships. But he wants to be careful with Lance. Lance deserves someone who is careful with him.

Lance is turned so that his back is towards Keith. Keith tries to take a deep breath and let out all of his sexual frustration, before tapping Lance on the shoulder. “Lance?”

He rolls around to face Keith. It’s too dark for Keith to really see anything, but he can feel the heat radiating off of Lance’s body. He can feel the warm breath on his lips.

“Hi” Keith says. And it feels like a turning point for him. It feels innocent. 

“Hey.” Lance answers sweetly.

It’s such a simple moment, but it’s so intimate. It reminds Keith of other things in his life that had made him feel just as comfortable. Just as warm. Safe. He thinks about important people in his life. He thinks about his older brother. Suddenly, he has an idea. 

“Let’s play twenty questions.” He blurts. Has he ever said that to a hot boy in his life? Definitely not. 

“What?” Lance seems surprised by the random suggestion.

“When I was little and I couldn’t fall asleep, Shiro used to play twenty questions with me. It always worked.” Keith says, not losing his nerve. 

“Shiro lived with you?”

Keith clears his throat, a little awkwardly. Right, This whole thing. “I lost my parents when I was really little. I was in foster care for a while, and Shiro was my foster brother at the last house I lived in. I was there for six years.”

Lance curls a little closer to him and Keith feels his heart clench a little.  _ Sweet. So sweet. _ “Oh man, I had no idea. Sorry for, uh, bringing it up.”

“No, it’s not a problem, really. It’s a conversation I have with most people at some point.” He say, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Got it.” There is a silence, then, “So lets play then.”

Keith giggles, “Okay, you first. Ask me something.”

Keith can see the general outlines of Lance’s face in the darkness now. But he forces himself not to look for too long. He can’t do that to himself. 

“Okay…” Lance says, voice cracking. His eyes glisten as they study Keith. “Favorite color?”

“Red” Keith says automatically. “You?”

“Blue.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement. Then asks, “Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Dulce de leche.” Lance doesn’t miss a beat. “You?”

“Definitely rocky road.”

“Yummy.”

“If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?” Keith asks. That is one of Shiro’s favorites.

“I’d love to go to Brazil.” Lance says.

“That sounds nice.” Keith says. “I’d love to go to Greece.”

“The beaches are beautiful there.”

“Yeah.”

They are silent for a while, and Keith lets his eyes fall shut. Man, that game always gets him. It must be a childhood thing. Works like a charm every time. His brain is still drunk. Still fuzzy. And it drifts to Lance, standing in the gas station, formal wear hugging very curve of his body. Keith can see it, clear as day. So fucking breathtaking. 

He sees that hickey there, too. 

“Nice hickey, by the way.’ He says out loud without thinking. He doesn't mean for it to sound as sour as it does. He smirks to try and make it appear like he’s joking. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, I had a date with Kate earlier today.” Lance stutters. It sounds so awkward coming out of his mouth.

“Mmmm, cool.” Keith says, although it is decidedly not cool. He can’t believe there is a girl out there who is just sucking on Lance’s neck whenever she wants to. What did she do in life? How is she qualified? 

Silence fills the air and Keith thanks god that the conversation is over. But then Lance is talking again. 

“Yeah...It’s kind of my thing, you know?”

“Your what?” Keith asks sleepily.

“My thing. Like, everyone has that one thing in bed that makes them crazy.” 

Keith’s heart stutters. Fuck this. No, he can’t talk about this with--

“Mine is like, this spot, right here.” Lance continues, clearly plotting Keith's untimely demise. He brings his finger up to the spot where his jaw line meets his ear. His voice sounds shaky, but he keeps talking. “But the worst part is that I can’t hide that spot with anything, so, it’s kind of a bummer when I get a really good mark there.”

Keith opens his eyes again, tracing the soft skin there. He blinks up at Lance, not knowing what to say. Because he knows that id he opens his mouth, it’s just going to attach itself to that spot and suck on it until Lance is whining and begging for more. 

“What’s, uh... what’s your spot?” Lance asks awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation going for some ungodly reason. 

Keith tries to remember how smooth he usually is in these situations but somehow that isn’t helping him right now. “I don’t like telling people.” He says, lowly. Yeah, teasing feels familiar. He runs with it. “I like to let them explore, figure it out for themselves.”

“Well, how will they know?”

Keith smirks. So innocent. “Oh, they'll know.”

It is silent for a second. Then Lance huffs nervously. “Well, I’m never going to find out, right?” He says. “So you might as well just tell me.”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Keith asks, feeling like he’s gained his footing again.

“I don’t know, I’m curious.” Lance snaps.

Keith sighs. He hesitates for a moment, and then moves his hand down to his hips. “It’s right here” he says, dusting his thumb over the smooth, pale skin just above his hip bone. He chuckles softly. “I realized it when I was hooking up with this guy in high school, and I had to go to a family dinner the next day. So I told him not to leave any marks on my neck. He just moved down and started leaving marks here instead, and fuck, Lance, it was so good.”

He hears Lance swallow. He can’t help the smirk that blossoms across his face. Lance almost makes it too easy sometimes. 

“So there.” Keith amends. “That is confidential information, though. For the most part, the unfortunate bastards who wanna fuck me have to figure it out themselves. So don’t go around blabbing. It’s a trade secret.” Keith grins. He knows he’s blushing, and is thankful that the dark may be hiding some of it. 

And now Lance is looking at him with very, very conflicted eyes. Keith can identify a few things; frustration, fondness, lust. But there are other things too. Things that Keith can’t name. And Keith wants this so badly. He sees Lance’s gaze flick down to his lips. How does Lance not  _ realize _ ? How does Lance actually think he’s meant to be with that girl? It’s making Keith ballistic. 

He’s already decided to be careful with Lance. The last thing he wants to do is hurt him. But that doesn’t mean that Keith isn’t getting hurt in the process. 

Keith’s eyes fall shut again. Lance speaks then, voice a little breathy. “I’m not gay, Keith.” He says quietly.

This must be what it feels like, when he rejects guys. This must be what rejection feels like. It’s different. It hurts much, much more than Keith thought it would. It hurts to care about someone. It hurts to watch them not care as much about you. It’s just…

Scary. 

Keith just chuckles softly, feeling defeated. Feeling sad. “Yeah, Lance, I know.”

And he knows that it should feel like the end of the road, but strangely, it doesn’t. It just sits on him like brick. A heavy, overwhelming feeling that lulls him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooof keith. sounds stressful 
> 
> <3333333


End file.
